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THE 

WORSHIP    OF    THE    ROMANS 

VIEWED    IN    RELATION    TO    THE 
ROMAN  TEMPERAMENT 


THE 


WORSHIP  OF  THE  ROMANS 

VIEWED    IN    RELATION    TO    THE 
ROMAN    TEMPERAMENT 


FRANK    GRANGER,    D.Lit. 

PROFESSOR  IN  UNIVERSITY  COLLEGE,  NOTTINGHAM 


Heaven,  hell,  tlte  world  are  within  us.    Man  is  the  great  abyss. 

Amiel. 


METHUEN   &   CO. 

36,   ESSEX   STREET,   STRAND 

LONDON 

1895 


PREFACE 

I  HAVE  attempted  in  the  pages  that  follow  to 
delineate  that  group  of  beliefs  which  stood  in 
close  connection  with  Roman  religion ;  to  point  out 
the  manner  in  which  they  are  related  one  to  another, 
and  to  justify  them  as  a  necessary  factor  in  the 
awakening  of  the  religious  sentiment.  The  first 
chapter  traces  out  the  mode  in  which  they  are  fitted 
into  the  organic  structure  of  mental  life,  viewed  as 
common  to  a  whole  nation.  The  topic  of  dreams 
and  apparitions  suggests  that  this  community  of 
experience  extends  to  all  mankind,  and,  in  particular, 
to  the  age  in  which  we  live.  The  characteristic 
beliefs  are  then  traced  which  the  Romans  held  with 
respect  to  the  soul,  and  life  after  death.  After  taking 
account  of  the  manner  in  which  the  Romans  inter- 
preted their  physical  surroundings,  and  especially 
the  miraculous  occurrences  which  formed  part  of 
their  experience,  as  the  experience  of  every  other 
people,  ancient  and  modern,  we  are  in  a  position 
to  understand  their  worship  of  Nature.    Through 


vi  THE  WORSHIP  OF  THE   ROMANS 

watching  the  Roman  mind  at  work,  the  observer 
comes  to  discern  the  principles  of  its  operation,  and 
to  understand  somewhat  the  practical  application 
of  those  principles  in  magic.  As  magic  fades  away 
it  passes  into  divination  and  prophecy.  Having 
surveyed  in  this  manner  the  soil  in  which  the  later 
Roman  religion  grew,  we  can  follow,  at  a  distance, 
its  progress  until  it  loses  itself  in  the  purer  regions 
of  Greek  speculation,  and  dies  before  the  approach 
of  the  Christian  faith.  The  notions  of  holiness  and 
sacrifice  are  capable  of  profound  meanings,  even 
amid  a  religious  environment  so  dreary  as  that  of 
Rome. 

In  the  treatment  of  this  subject  I  have  allowed 
myself  two  liberties,  which,  to  some,  may  seem  to 
have  been  abused.  I  have  dwelt,  in  preference,  on 
obvious  and  accessible  facts,  rather  than  on  inferences 
which  rest  on  acute  combinations  of  authorities. 

In  the  second  place,  I  have  availed  myself  freely 
of  the  many  modern  parallels  which  present  them- 
selves to  almost  every  ancient  custom  and  belief. 
The  melancholy  story  of  the  witch  -  burning  at 
Clonmel,  in  this  very  year,  gives  point  to  the  chapter 
on  magic.  Not  so  long  ago  a  Cornish  witch  was 
subjected  to  persecution  by  her  neighbours  in  such 
a  way,  that  the  parties  made  their  appearance  in 
the  local  police-court.     There  is  less  difference  than 


PREFACE  vii 

pride  allows  us  to  admit,  between  the  mind  of  the 
early  Roman  and  of  the  modern  Englishman.  Some 
may  criticise  the  freedom  with  which  the  usages  and 
ideas  of  the  Christian  world  have  been  brought 
forward  to  illustrate  pagan  religion.  But  there  are 
venerable  precedents  for  dwelling  upon  the  con- 
tinuity of  the  religious  experience.  Christianity  was 
not  preached  by  its  first  missionary  as  an  isolated 
phenomenon.1  I  have  ventured  even  to  suggest 
that,  in  some  particulars,  current  religious  obser- 
vances are  less  satisfying  to  the  whole  nature  of 
man  than  ancient. 

The  investigations  of  folk-lore  are  really  laying 
the  foundations  of  comparative  psychology,  on  the 
lines  indicated  by  Mill  in  his  Logic  of  the  Moral 
Sciences.  The  term  suggested  by  him,  Ethology, 
has  never  obtained  currency.  It  represents,  how- 
ever, the  scope  of  much  contemporary  work.  The 
methods  of  folk-lore  are  based  in  the  last  resort 
upon  those  of  psychology,  and  only  gain  can  result 
from  the  solution  of  the  problems  of  the  one  science 
in  the  light  of  the  results  of  the  other.  I  have  tried, 
in  the  first  chapter,  to  indicate  some  of  the  leading 
features  of  the  Roman  temperament. 

It  does  not  seem  unreasonable  to  expect  that 
the  student  of  Latin  literature  would   profit   by  a 

1  Acts,  xvii.  22. 


viii        THE  WORSHIP   OF  THE  ROMANS 

somewhat  more  systematic  acquaintance  with  Roman 
folk-lore  than  is  customary.  The  passages  quoted 
and  translated  in  the  following  pages  refer  to  those 
aspects  of  Roman  life  to  which  modern  life  presents 
few  immediate  analogies ;  nevertheless,  they  often 
contain  the  clue  to  the  sense  of  their  context.  We 
can  enter  into  the  patriotism,  the  worldly  wisdom, 
the  law-abiding  temper,  of  Cato,  Horace,  or  Livy. 
We  feel  strange  in  the  presence  of  the  Flamen  Dialis, 
the  augur,  or  the  wolves  of  the  sun-god. 

Moreover,  this  very  aspect  of  Latin  studies  give 
them  a  peculiar  fitness  to  enter  into  an  English 
curriculum.  Each  Englishman  has  some  respon- 
sibility for  the  good  government  of  an  empire,  the 
inhabitants  of  which  differ  from  us  much  in  the  same 
degree  as  the  ancient  Romans.  Sir  Alfred  Lyall 
has  said  that  to  visit  India  is  like  a  return  to  the 
Roman  world. 

Let  the  reader  whose  memory  retains  any  vestiges 
of  Roman  history,  try  to  figure  to  himself  a  tribunate 
exercised  in  the  Rome  of  Cato  by  half-a-dozen 
philanthropists  of  the  present  day,  who  understood 
neither  a  word  of  Latin,  nor  a  fact  of  Roman  history, 
and  he  will  be  able  to  estimate  the  likelihood  of 
success  which  attends  the  transplanting  of  English 
ideas  to  Indian  soil,  by  persons  entirely  unacquainted 
with  life  in  India. 


PREFACE  ix 

The  references  which  are  given  at  the  foot  of  each 
page  will  indicate  the  writers  to  whom  my  obligations 
are  specially  great.  In  particular,  I  have  taken  many 
hints  from  Mr.  Jevons'  preface  to  Plutarch's  Roman 
Questions,  and  from  Robertson  Smith's  Religion  of 
the  Semites.  Mr.  G.  H.  Skipwith  has  helped  me 
with  his  advice  and  criticism  in  relation  to  numerous 
topics,  and  I  have  been  glad  to  draw  upon  his  wide 
reading  both  for  confirmation  and  disproof. 

Nottingham,  Easter,  1895. 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

The  Roman  Spirit 

.    13 

Dreams  and  Apparitions 

.    28 

The  Soul  and  its  Companions 

.      53 

The  World  Around   . 

.      74 

Nature  Worship 

.      92 

Primitive  Thought     . 

.    129 

Roman  Magic 

•    153 

Divination  and  Prophecy 

•    173 

The  Primitive  Idea  of  Holiness 

.    200 

Holy  Places  and  Idolatry     . 

.    220 

The  Divine  Victim 

.    245 

The  Sacred  Drama    . 

.    269 

Latin  Index 

.    309 

English  Index 

.    311 

THE    ROMAN   SPIRIT 


THERE  is  in  the  Louvre  a  large  bust  of  Pentelic 
marble  which  portrays  the  goddess  Roma,  the 
spirit  of  Rome.  When  the  rising  power  of  the  city 
began  to  promise  peace  to  the  storm-beaten  and 
weary  communities  who  dwelt  on  the  shores  of  the 
Great  Sea,  they  built  temples,  and  celebrated 
festivals,  in  honour  of  their  protector,  and  worshipped 
her  under  forms  of  which  the  Louvre  bust  may  be 
taken  as  representative.  The  temple  which  Hadrian 
consecrated  to  the  goddesses  Venus  and  Rome, 
marks  the  rise  of  a  like  worship  within  the  walls 
of  the  imperial  city  herself.  Roma  aeterna,  Rome 
the  everlasting ;  such  was  the  name  conferred  on  the 
goddess,  as  though  the  citizens  had  a  presentiment  of 
the  decline  of  the  western  empire  and  its  capital, 
and  sought  by  this  name  to  ward  it  off. 

The  portrayal  of  ideas  in  the  form  of  human 
beings  was  very  common  in  both  Greek  and 
Roman  art.  Yet  the  most  enthusiastic  students 
of  the  antique  have  shrunk  from  claiming  for  this 
method  a  universal  application.  It  has  been  treated 
as  a  special  characteristic  of  the  Greek  genius ;  an 


i4         THE  WORSHIP  OF  THE  ROMANS 

instinct  which  gives  human  shape  and  soul  to  all 
objects  of  the  sensible  and  intellectual  worlds.  But 
if  it  be  admitted  that  we  may  justly  speak  of  the  spirit 
of  Rome,  it  is  difficult  to  see  how  an  artist  could 
express  this  spirit  more  nobly  than  by  a  personifi- 
cation of  the  kind  that  we  are  considering.  It  might 
even  be  advanced  that  we  are  dealing  here  with  a 
most  natural  outcome  of  the  principles  of  classical 
art ;  the  various  parts  of  a  complex  idea  are  brought 
together  into  an  organic  whole,  for  this  is  what  we 
mean  by  spirit,  and  receive  thereupon  a  suitable 
embodiment. 

How  readily  the  Greek  or  Roman  mind  seized  the 
salient  features  of  social  life,  becomes  clear  as  we 
turn  to  the  interpretation  of  the  genius  of  Athens, 
which  the  historian  has  put  into  the  mouth  of  her 
leading  statesman ;  or  to  the  verses  with  which 
Anchises  in  the  under  world  ends  the  roll-call  of  the 
heroic  sons  of  the  city.  The  rendering  of  Dryden 
has  caught  something  at  least  of  the  rhetoric  of 
the  Roman  poet. 

"  Let  others  better  mould  the  running  mass 
Of  metals,  and  inform  the  breathing  brass, 
And  soften  into  flesh  a  marble  face : 
Plead  better  at  the  bar  :  describe  the  skies, 
And  when  the  stars  descend,  and  when  they  rise. 
But,  Rome,  't  is  thine  alone  with  awful  sway 
To  rule  mankind,  and  make  the  world  obey, 
Disposing  peace  and  war  thy  own  majestic  way. 
To  tame  the  proud,  the  fettered  slave  to  free, 
These  are  imperial  arts,  and  worthy  thee.*' 


THE   ROMAN   SPIRIT  15 

It  is  as  though  the  poet  gathered  into  one  ray  the 
varied  lights  which  illumine  the  names  of  a  Fabius,  a 
Cato,  or  a  Decius ;  his  description  setting  forth  at 
once  the  type  and  the  ideal  of  Roman  character.  It 
appears,  then,  that  we  are  following  the  clues  which 
sculpture  and  poetry  afford,  when  we  attempt  to 
delineate  systematically  some  of  the  main  currents 
of  Roman  thought.  Perhaps  the  reader  may  protest 
against  the  contrast  between  the  ideal  of  the  artist  and 
the  poet,  and  the  more  sober  description  contained 
in  the  following  pages.  Yet  we  must  be  content  to 
allow  for  the  patriotic  exaggeration  of  a  national 
epic  poem,  and  the  sublimity  with  which  adoration 
invests  its  objects.  A  survey  of  the  facts  will  leave 
us  in  a  more  sympathetic  temper  than  perhaps  we 
anticipate. 

There  is  a  scientific  sense  in  which  we  may  speak 
of  the  soul  of  the  Roman  race.  It  may  be  defined 
as  that  organized  group  of  beliefs  and  habits  which 
answered  to  the  conditions  of  its  political  life.  The 
human  personality  is  not  so  much  a  single  existence 
as  a  bundle  of  existences ;  it  might  be  compared  to  a 
small  Republic,  say  one  of  the  South  American 
States,  which  was  constantly  changing  its  president. 
It  will  be  enough  for  our  present  purpose  if  we  take 
it  to  be  subdivided  into  the  material  self,  that 
which  is  related  to  our  own  bodies  and  material 
surroundings ;  the  social  self,  through  which  we 
enter  into  social  and  political  life ;  and,  thirdly,  the 


1 6         THE  WORSHIP  OF  THE  ROMANS 

spiritual  self,  through  which  we  are  conscious  of  our- 
selves as  persons.  We  are  dealing  in  this  chapter 
with  the  second  of  the  three ;  the  social  self.1 

Although  the  social  self,  or  national  character, 
stands  always  in  very  close  connection  with  the 
physical  characters  of  a  race,  yet  this  connection 
is  not  invariable.  Within  certain  limits  it  is  possible 
for  men  of  the  most  diverse  origin  to  acquire  the 
spirit  of  one  and  the  same  civilization.  No  more 
striking  example  of  this  could  be  found  than  is 
afforded  by  the  history  of  Rome.  She  set  her  own 
stamp  on  nearly  all  the  peoples  that  came  under  her 
sway,  and  in  a  manner  so  effectual  that  we  cease 
to  distinguish  the  true-born  citizen  from  the 
foreigner.  It  is  difficult  to  realise,  for  instance,  that 
Seneca,  the  great  minister,  who  was  also  a  phi- 
losopher ;  Lucan,  "  by  his  death  approved "  ;  and 
Trajan,  the  emperor  who  pushed  the  boundaries  of 
the  Roman  dominion  to  their  furthest — were  all  of 
them  Spaniards,  It  appears  then  that  this  social 
self  is  capable  of  being  communicated  to  a  very  high 
degree.  When  the  apostle  speaks  of  putting  on  "the 
new  man,"  he  is  applying  to  spiritual  things  a  figure 
illustrated  abundantly  in  the  social  changes  of  his 
time. 

The  use  of  the  word  "person"  in  Roman  law 
shows  that  the  Romans  were  conscious  themselves  of 
the    distinction    which    holds    between    the  various 

1  James,  Textbook  of Psychology ',  177. 


THE   ROMAN  SPIRIT  17 

aspects  of  the  individual  life.1  The  term  does  not 
always  mean  a  human  being ;  in  its  original  sense 
it  denoted  the  mask  worn,  and  the  part  played, 
by  an  actor.  Then  it  came  to  mean  the  character 
which  each  man  sustains  in  the  world.  Thus  a  man 
may  be  a  citizen,  a  father,  a  soldier,  and  so  forth. 
The  name  person  can  be  applied  to  each  of  these 
conditions  with  which  he  is  invested.  Hence  it  may 
be  said,  units  homo  sustinet  plures  personas,  a  single 
man  sustains  several  persons.  Of  all  these  persons, 
the  most  important  in  the  eyes  of  the  Roman 
legislators  was  that  of  citizenship ;  the  condition  of 
citizen  including  within  itself  many  subordinate 
persons.  If,  however,  we  define  it  as  that  person  or 
character  which  is  shared  by  the  members  of  a 
political  society,  we  shall  see  that  Roman  law  merely 
views  from  the  side  of  law  the  same  fact  as  that  which 
we  are  investigating  from  the  side  of  psychology. 
And  the  admission  of  foreigners  to  the  Roman 
franchise  was  the  legal  recognition  of  their  ac- 
quisition of  the  Roman  character. 

The  process  by  which  the  child  tends  to  put  on 
the  character  of  his  elders,  is  perhaps  the  most 
complete  example  of  the  manner  in  which  a  "  person  " 
can  be  assumed.  If  we  trace  what  takes  place  in 
this  very  obvious  process,  we  shall  be  able  to  imagine 
the  general  changes  which  are  effected  when  an 
outside  people  is  brought  into  contact  with  a  long- 

1  Austin,  Jurisprudence,  lect.  xii. 
B 


iS  THE   WORSHIP   OF   THE   ROMANS 

established  civilisation.  Just  as  the  child,  in  learning 
to  speak,  learns  also  to  think  very  much  as  those 
who  teach  him,  so  it  is  with  the  foreigner.  The 
Latin  language  was  also  the  vehicle  of  Roman  ideas, 
and  through  the  one  the  foreigner  came  into  contact 
with  the  other.  It  would  be  difficult  to  set  this 
influence  of  the  spoken  word  too  high.  Just  as  it 
is  the  expression  of  a  thought  in  the  breast  of  the 
speaker,  so  it  arouses  a  resembling  thought  in  the 
hearer,  and  this  process,  oftentimes  repeated,  conveys, 
so  to  speak,  the  soul  of  one  into  the  other.  This 
effect  of  language  is  well  brought  out  by  Dr.  Venn  : 
"  In  regard  to  any  particular  society  as  a  whole,  it 
plays  a  large  part  in  compelling  each  of  us  to  see 
the  world  as  his  fellows  see  it."  In  some  such  terms 
as  these  we  may  present  the  acquisition  of  a  foreign 
tongue,  especially  when,  as  was  the  case  with  Rome, 
there  were  conveyed  modes  of  thought  which  far 
transcended  those  of  most  of  her  neighbours.  If  it 
be  true,  as  Goethe  has  said,  that  a  man  has  as  many 
souls  as  he  knows  languages,  we  may  at  least  admit 
that  the  change  of  language  means  a  change  of 
soul. 

There  is  some  justification,  therefore,  for  those  who 
would  estimate  racial  descent  by  the  test  of  speech. 
The  inhabitants  of  southern  Europe  may  be  unable 
to  trace  their  physical  descent  from  the  Romans,  but 
they  have  inherited  their  modes  of  thought  and  even 
of  feeling. 


THE   ROMAN   SPIRIT  19 

If  language  is  the  instinctive  expression  of  national 
spirit,  law  in  its  positive  forms  may  be  viewed  as  an 
instrument  used,  with  more  or  less  conscious  purpose, 
to  produce  a  certain  type  of  character.  It  is  of 
course  true  that  we  may  not  ascribe  the  whole  body 
of  law  to  such  a  source.  Rules  and  ordinances,  in 
themselves  unreasonable  or  unmeaning,  are  retained 
by  prescription  and  the  use  of  centuries.  Neverthe- 
less it  is  possible  in  many  leading  instances  to  refer 
the  general  tendency  of  positive  law  to  the  effort 
to  realise  some  proposed  type  of  character.  This 
applies  not  only  to  the  legislation  of  the  Pentateuch 
and  to  the  Roman  code,  influenced  as  it  was  by  Stoic 
philosophy  ;  we  can  trace,  though  with  less  certainty, 
the  gropings  after  ideals  of  national  character,  which 
determine  in  England  our  alternating  spasms  of 
Conservative  and  Liberal  legislation.  Our  English  law, 
with  its  cumbersomeness  and  want  of  system,  is  also 
marked  by  a  fairness  and  practical  turn,  and  so 
reflects,  not  inaccurately,  our  national  character ; 
with  its  desire  to  get  something  done  even  at  the 
sacrifice  of  that  system  and  method  which  is  in- 
dispensable to  expedition  in  the  long  run.  And 
existence  under  English  law,  and  under  the  just 
administration  which  is  the  true  glory  of  that  law, 
is  guided  more  or  less  into  the  historic  moulds  of 
English  life.  Yet  English  rule  seems  to  leave  traces 
less  deep  than  those  which  the  Romans  have  left.  In 
fact,  it  would  almost  seem  that  there  was  something 


2o         THE  WORSHIP   OF  THE  ROMANS 

peculiarly  assimilative  in  the  Roman  administration, 
by  which  it  was  enabled  to  render  its  subjects 
conformable  to  the  Roman  mind.  As  the  English 
mind  speaks  through  law  and  administration,  so  the 
Roman  spoke  in  tones  still  more  audible  through  the 
praetor's  edict  and  the  provincial  assizes  of  the 
empire  ;  the  peace  of  Rome,  which  spread  round 
the  Mediterranean,  was  not  only  external,  it  rested 
on  an  inward  community  of  thought  and  feeling, 
which  also  it  helped  to  produce.  This  analogy  has 
a  practical  interest  for  us.  "The  provincial  ad- 
ministration, as  well  as  the  foreign  policy  of  the 
Roman  empire,  are  reproduced  in  several  notable 
respects,  by  our  system  of  government  in  India."1 
Will  English  administration  create  a  corresponding 
change  of  temperament  ? 

If  it  be  admitted  that  language  and  law  are  the 
vehicles  of  national  temperament,  by  which  it  is 
communicated  to  a  greater  or  less  extent  to  outsiders, 
the  same  will  be  true  in  a  far  greater  degree  of 
religion.  In  most  ancient  communities  but  little 
scope  was  left  to  the  initiative  of  the  individual,  at 
least  in  comparison  with  our  western  liberty ;  at 
every  step  he  was  guided  by  prescription.  Whatever 
he  said  or  did  was  determined,  as  to  its  form  at  least, 
by  some  rule  which  generally  sheltered  itself  under 
the  name  of  religion.  At  Rome,  the  custom  of 
the  elders  gathered  together  all  that  there  was  of 

1  Lyall,  Asiatic  Studies,  pref. 


THE  ROMAN   SPIRIT  21 

authority  and  sanctity.  Not  only  the  ordinances  of 
worship,  therefore,  but  all  customs  of  speech,  belief, 
and  practice,  were  followed  with  a  sense  of  their 
binding  force  or  religio.  There  is  no  need  to  dwell 
upon  what  is  so  well  accepted,  as  the  derivation  of 
ancient  codes  from  religious  sources.  There  are 
numerous  traces,  however,  of  a  like  origin  in  the  case 
of  language.  Words  are  divine,  magical.  The  old 
Egyptians  regarded  the  true  voice — word  and  melody 
taken  together— as  the  gift  of  the  ibis  god.  "  Speak 
good  words,"  was  the  injunction  with  which  every 
Greek  ceremony  was  begun.  The  Greek  mysteries 
might  be  celebrated  before  those  alone  who  were  of 
the  sacred  tongue.  Whatever  view  of  the  origin  of 
language  be  accepted  ultimately,  it  will,  in  all  like- 
lihood, be  referred  to  some  social  occasion  in 
which  the  community  participates.  The  tempting 
suggestion  has  been  made,  that  language  took  its 
rise  in  "  festal  excitement,"  and  especially  in  the  war 
dance.  From  this  standpoint  we  can  understand  how 
it  continued  to  be  associated  with  all  the  common 
practices  of  the  tribe,  as  something  upon  which  the 
common  life  depended,  and  therefore,  as  will  be 
explained  later,  as  something  holy.1 

Since,  therefore,  religion  in  the  ancient  world 
comprised  every  social  function,  of  which  law  and 
speech  are  but  two  examples,  we  can  see  how 
initiation  into  the  national  religion  and  admittance 

1  Donovan,  Mind,  xvi.  498. 


22  THE  WORSHIP   OF  THE   ROMANS 

to  citizenship  went  together.  The  religion  of  a 
people  was  in  literal  truth  the  door  to  its  life.  The 
man  who  was  excluded  from  the  practices  of  the  one 
could  not  enter  into  the  spirit  of  the  other.  And 
conversely,  the  frequence,  the  impressiveness,  the 
delight  of  ancient  ceremonies,  were  tuning  constantly 
the  minds  of  their  devotees  to  a  deep  sympathy;  a 
sympathy  into  which  a  foreigner  could  enter  but 
imperfectly. 

The  most  striking  and  important  event  in  the 
history  of  Rome — the  breaking  down  of  the  exclu- 
siveness  of  its  religion,  and  the  consequent  admission 
of  strangers  to  the  national  life — is  thus  of  a  more 
complex  character  than  appears  at  first  sight.  We 
have  observed  this  fact  in  a  manner  merely  super- 
ficial, when  we  have  enumerated  the  legal  steps  by 
which  citizenship  could  be  acquired.  Something 
more  is  needed  if  we  are  to  grasp  it  fully.  We 
must  also  take  account  of  the  change  of  temperament 
which  accompanied  the  spread  of  Roman  law  and 
government  round  the  shores  of  the  Mediterranean. 

II. 

In  a  progressive  society  the  ideas  of  the  govern- 
ment represent  very  imperfectly  the  average  opinion 
of  the  governed ;  for  government  tends  to  be 
exercised — if  not  directly,  at  least  indirectly — by 
small  bodies  of  men  united  by  obedience  to  some 
group  of  ideas.     And  so  progress  consists  very  often 


THE  ROMAN  SPIRIT  23 

in  the  forward  march  of  an  active  minority,  with  the 
great  mass  of  mankind  lumbering  after  them,  and 
now  and  then  getting  out  of  breath.  It  happens 
usually,  under  these  circumstances,  that  the  literature 
and  art  of  an  age  are  rather  the  product  of  the 
governing  minority,  than  the  expression  of  the 
national  life  as  a  whole.  The  historians,  the  philo- 
sophers, the  poets,  stand  indeed  in  a  very  close 
relation  to  their  immediate  surroundings.  But  this 
is  not  all.  They  are  also  heralds  and  guides  of  the 
new  order  of  things.  The  most  brilliant  periods  of 
the  world's  history  have  been  those  in  which  the 
contrast  between  the  government  and  the  governed 
has  reached  an  acute  stage.  The  circles  of  Pericles, 
of  the  more  enlightened  Italian  princes  in  the  early 
renaissance,  of  Elizabeth,  acted  largely  in  defiance 
of  the  peoples  whose  resources  they  wielded.  The 
great  writers  are,  therefore,  only  imperfect  guides 
to  the  thoughts  and  feelings  of  their  contemporaries. 
If  we  wish  to  understand  the  latter  we  must  have 
recourse  to  less  direct  testimonies;  those,  in  fact, 
which  are  included  under  the  name  folk-lore.  We 
may  mark  off,  therefore,  two  layers  of  mental  life ; 
that  of  the  more  speculative  few,  and,  on  the  other 
hand,  the  great  assemblage  of  beliefs  and  expec- 
tations which  forms  the  common  heritage  of  a 
nation. 

Histories   of  literature,   of  scientific   advance,   of 
philosophy,  help  us  to  understand   the  former.      It 


24         THE  WORSHIP   OF  THE   ROMANS 

will  be  the  object  of  the  succeeding  pages  to  enter 
into  the  latter;  to  interpret,  as  far  as  may  be,  some 
of  those  thoughts  which  lay  nearer  to  the  average 
Roman  mind  than  the  Greek  elements  in  its  liter- 
ature. The  great  names  of  Roman  literature  are, 
in  the  main,  those  of  men  who  belonged  to  the 
aristocratic  opposition  of  the  end  of  the  Republic, 
or  were  under  the  protection  of  Augustus  and  his 
ministers.  Many  qualifications  must  be  made  before 
we  can  take  them  as  the  spokesmen  of  the  Roman 
people.  In  every  one  of  them,  except,  perhaps,  in 
Ovid  and  Tibullus,  we  can  trace  a  feeling,  critical 
and  almost  hostile,  in  regard  to  their  contemporaries. 
While,  however,  Lucretius  and  Cicero  seem  at  times 
to  exaggerate  their  disagreement  with  popular  beliefs, 
the  case  is  otherwise  with  Virgil  in  his  Aeneid,  and 
Horace  in  his  later  odes.  The  two  great  poets  of 
the  Empire  make  great  efforts  to  gather  up  the 
threads  of  the  beliefs  that  still  survived,  and  to  weave 
them  into  a  poetic  vestment  for  the  national  spirit ; 
not,  perhaps,  for  that  spirit  as  it  breathed  at  the 
moment,  but  for  the  ideal  that  Augustus  and  his 
ministers  had  formed  of  it.  "  The  art  of  moral 
government,"  Amiel  says,  "is  to  enter  into  the  poesy 
of  an  age  and  guide  it."  This  then  was  the  secret 
of  Augustus'  success  ;  he  reconciled  the  demands 
of  a  great  imperial  organisation  with  the  feelings 
of  his  subjects.  The  Empire  was,  in  some  measure, 
more  conformable  to   the  national   sentiment   than 


THE   ROMAN   SPIRIT  25 

the  Republic  which  it  replaced.  Among  other 
indications  of  this,  it  is  noteworthy  that  Augustus 
favoured  the  more  conservative  school  of  lawyers, 
in  the  spirit  in  which  Virgil  and  Horace  found  their 
social  ideals  in  the  past.  This  was  a  precaution, 
perhaps,  against  the  abuse  of  a  great  extension  which 
he  gave  to  the  privileges  of  the  Roman  jurisconsults ; 
the  knowledge  of  the  principles  of  law  gave  the 
right  to  deduce  and  to  apply  its  consequences. 
Thus,  in  law  as  well  as  in  literature,  he  sought  to 
mould  the  temperament  of  his  subjects  into  harmony 
with  the  constitution  of  the  state. 

This  important  part  of  the  art  of  government  is 
left  to  chance  in  our  time.  The  inquiry  is  seldom 
made  whether  any  given  reform  is  adapted  to  the 
intellectual  and  moral  state  of  those  who  will  be 
affected  by  it.  What  is  more  surprising  still,  no 
adequate  use  is  made  of  the  means  provided  by 
the  national  system  of  elementary  education,  in  order 
to  make  the  operation  of  new  reforms  as  easy  as 
possible. 

Much  might  be  done  in  this  way  to  lighten  the 
weight  of  social  conditions  upon  the  less  fortunate 
classes.  Unfortunately,  this  is  the  only  instrument 
available.  The  chaos  in  which  secondary  instruction 
still  moves,  renders  unprofitable  any  attempt  to  cal- 
culate its  effects.  Nor  is  the  English  law  comparable 
for  one  moment  to  the  noble  instrument  which 
Augustus  found  to  hand  in  the  law  of  Rome. 


26         THE  WORSHIP   OF  THE   ROMANS 

We  are  proud  of  that  practical  temper  which 
enables  us  as  a  nation  to  be  engaged  always  on 
something  that  wants  doing.  Yet  we  fail  to  give 
the  national  spirit  a  fair  outlet  and  means  of  expres- 
sion. Our  literature  shows  the  latent  powers,  which 
only  await  the  magician's  touch  to  burst  forth  into 
action. 

But  as  a  nation  we  seem,  somehow,  to  lack  the 
tact,  the  knowledge  of  the  art  of  life,  and  there- 
fore the  happiness  which  should  be  ours,  and  is 
enjoyed  by  nations  less  favoured  with  this  world's 
goods.  Our  social  life  is  ungraceful.  Our  great 
cities  are  more  solidly  built  and  more  wholesome 
to  live  in  than  most  foreign  cities,  yet  their  effect 
is  mean,  and  unworthy  of  the  civic  life  which  surges 
in  them.  Our  public  ceremonies  are  ungainly ;  and 
burlesque,  oftentimes,  the  occasions  on  which  they 
are  held. 

It  is  not  a  mere  affectation,  then,  when  many 
look  back  with  longing  to  the  brilliance  of  the 
age  of  Elizabeth.  Then  the  nation  had  not  yet 
undertaken  the  mighty  tasks  which  now  it  has  to 
carry  through.  It  was  not  yet  distracted  by  the 
diversity  of  its  interests.  The  time  seems  again  to 
have  come,  however,  when  we  may  look  round  and 
ask  ourselves  whether  we  should  not  seek  once  more 
that  rounded  perfection  of  national  life,  which  is 
really  at  our  beck  and  call,  had  we  the  patience 
and   self-command,    the    quietness   and    confidence, 


THE   ROMAN  SPIRIT  27 

of  which  we  boast  ourselves.  If  the  Roman  nation, 
with  its  many  deficiencies,  its  poor  imagination,  its 
crude  tastes,  its  incapacity  for  abstract  thought, 
attained,  to  some  degree,  splendour  and  fulness  of 
civic  life,  we  ought  to  be  filled  with  dissatisfaction 
until,  in  like  manner,  our  own  mode  of  existence 
gives  full  expression  to  the  Anglo  -  Saxon  tem- 
perament. 


DREAMS   AND   APPARITIONS 


THERE  is  reason  to  believe  that  the  effect  of 
modern  civilised  life  upon  dream  experiences 
is  to  weaken  them.  We  have  so  much  to  do  with 
printed  matter,  that  instead  of  remembering  things 
we  remember  their  printed  names.  Mr.  Andrew 
Lang  tells  us  that  he  thinks  in  words,  not  pictures. 
We  might  invert  this  for  the  early  Roman,  and  say, 
with  probability,  that  he  thought  in  pictures,  not 
in  words.  Further,  the  complexity  of  modern 
experience  compels  us  to  think  of  many  things 
symbolically.  For  otherwise  our  minds  could  not 
contain  what  we  wished  them  to  hold.  Again,  the 
variety  of  the  interests  of  those  who  live  in 
populous  centres,  or  who  are  in  touch  with  them, 
prevents  the  current  of  life  wearing  deep  any  single 
channel.  On  the  other  hand,  where  the  sphere  of 
experience  is  limited,  ideas  are  fewer.  Hence,  in 
these  cases,  the  range  of  dream  experiences  is 
limited.  Where  there  is  a  uniform  manner  of  life, 
the  dream  world  is  often  a  very  close  copy  of  the 
waking  one.  If  yesterday  was  like  the  day  before, 
and  is  going  to  be  repeated  in  a  thousand  to-morrows, 


DREAMS  AND   APPARITIONS  29 

the  dreams  which  echo  the  life  of  the  past  will 
presage,  with  fair  accuracy,  the  life  of  the  days  to 
come.  Add  to  all  this  that  the  primitive  mind  dis- 
tinguishes with  difficulty  between  what  is  true  and 
what  is  imagined,  and  we  can  understand  why  the 
dream  existence  is  often  placed  on  a  level  with  that 
of  waking  hours. 

Again,  it  is  very  doubtful  whether  the  undis- 
ciplined mind  ever  attains  any  really  abstract  modes 
of  thought.  Hence,  in  the  moments  when,  his  more 
pressing  needs  being  satisfied,  such  a  one  can  give 
himself  up  to  contemplation,  his  state  is  one  of 
dreaming,  of  reverie  in  the  strict  sense.  And  the 
panorama  that  unfolds  itself  before  him  in  these 
instants,  is  almost  continuous  with  the  panorama  of 
his  dreams.  And  so  the  figures  which  haunted  the 
sleep  of  the  Roman  often  had  their  counterparts  in 
the  apparitions  of  the  day. 

It  will  have  occurred  to  the  reader,  perhaps,  that 
the  change  from  ancient  to  modern  life  has  not  been 
one  of  unmixed  good  in  this  respect.  Mr.  Lang, 
like  other  moderns,  would  doubtless  be  content  to 
exchange  some  of  his  varied  learning  for  the  simpler 
and  more  vivid  picture  thoughts,  say  of  an  old 
Greek.  And  although  the  Roman  stands  on  a  far 
lower  level  in  this  respect  than  his  eastern  neighbour, 
the  difference  that  separates  his  mode  of  thought 
from  ours  is  still  of  the  same  kind.  The  ancients 
had  the  secret  of  combining  vivid  imagination  with 


3o         THE  WORSHIP   OF  THE   ROMANS 

a  wide  intellectual  outlook.  We  may  perhaps  be 
wiser  than  they,  but  our  modern  life  seems  thin  and 
poor  sometimes  by  the  side  of  theirs.  For  every  thing 
we  are  out  of  tune— it  moves  us  not.  We  have  lost  the 
idea  of  a  harmonious  upbringing,  by  which  every 
faculty  shall  be  blended  into  one  concordant  being. 
There  may  come  another  age  in  which  this  ancient 
art  shall  again  be  practised.  And  we  may  find 
consolation  in  the  thought,  that  the  attempts  which 
are  made  now-a-days  to  develop  this  or  that  side  of 
humanity  may  be  resolved,  discordant  as  they  are, 
into  a  new  and  perfect  music. 

We  ought  then  to  moderate  the  pride  with  which 
our  intellectual  advance  is  spoken  of.  It  is  one 
sided.  It  is  not  accompanied,  for  instance,  by  an 
answering  advance  in  the  perception  of  what  is 
beautiful.  Our  English  standards  of  art,  so  far  as 
the  public  taste  is  concerned,  are  vulgarian  and 
barbarous.  We  have  no  more  right,  however,  to 
claim  as  our  own  the  finest  methods  of  contem- 
porary science  than  the  highest  reaches  of  con- 
temporary art.  Just  as  no  discriminating  observer 
would  explain  the  art  of  Mr.  G.  F.  Watts,  or  of 
Dante  Rossetti,  by  reference  to  the  taste,  say,  of 
those  who  purchased  their  works,  so  we  have  not  the 
right  to  measure  the  public  mind  in  respect  to 
science,  by  reference  to  the  analytical  genius  of  Lord 
Kelvin,  or  the  dialectical  skill  of  Professor  Huxley. 
True  it  is,  that  the  terms  used  in  scientific  exposition 


DREAMS  AND   APPARITIONS  31 

pass  into  common  currency,  and  in  this  way  the 
public  gets  its  thinking  done  by  proxy.  Yet  no  one 
would  venture  to  say  that  the  attitude  of  the  public 
mind  to  its  duties  shows  the  insight  which  we  might 
have  expected  even  from  this.  Let  us  then  be  quite 
candid  in  drawing  the  comparison  between  Roman 
and  English  popular  thought.  Let  us  admit  at  once 
that  the  Roman  was  not  in  truth  so  benighted 
intellectually  as  we  might  think. 

More  than  this !  There  is,  as  we  shall  have 
occasion  to  see,  a  kind  of  consistency  in  the  view  of 
the  world  which  we  are  studying.  For  one  whose 
mind  thinks  in  pictures,  dreams  furnish  an  approach 
to  abstract  thought.  Perhaps  it  might  even  be 
maintained  that  they  furnish  the  only  occasion  on 
which  for  such  a  one  abstract  thinking  is  possible. 
In  waking  hours  the  primitive  mind  is  carried  away 
by  the  changing  stream  of  sense  impressions.  In 
sleep,  his  thoughts,  if  we  may  call  them  so,  appear 
without  this  factor.  Even  the  writers  through  whom 
we  become  acquainted  with  Roman  antiquity,  exhibit 
side  by  side  with  their  higher  endowments  many  of 
the  characteristics  which  have  been  roughly  indicated. 
We  come  to  know  the  ancient  Roman  no  less  through 
the  indirect  indications  which  these  writers  give  us  of 
their  own  feelings,  than  through  the  positive  accounts 
of  popular  beliefs  and  practices. 

The  figures  that  appeared  to  the  Roman  in  the 
night  came  singly  rather  than  in  companies,  and  in 


32  THE  WORSHIP   OF  THE   ROMANS 

surroundings  of  a  simple  character.  The  statue, 
standing  lonely  and  tall  and  pale,  represents,  not 
inaptly,  the  phantoms  that  visited  him.  So  it  was 
that  Drusus  Nero  appeared  to  Pliny  the  Elder  in 
Germany,  and  standing  by  him  as  he  slept,  besought 
that  learned  man  to  preserve  from  oblivion  the 
reputation  of  the  conqueror  of  Germany.  Where- 
upon Pliny  set  about  writing  a  history  of  the  German 
wars  in  twenty  books.  The  spirits  who  came  to  the 
Romans  in  these  visions  of  the  night,  were  of  a 
practical  turn  of  mind.  jSuetonius,  the  historian,  a 
friend  of  the  younger  Pliny,  was  interested  in  a  law- 
suit. He  had  a  dream  which  so  alarmed  him,  that 
he  wrote  to  Pliny  requesting  the  adjournment  of  the 
hearing.  This  reminds  Pliny  of  a  dream  in  which 
his  mother-in-law  seemed  to  go  down  on  her  knees, 
and  to  beg  him  not  to  appear  in  a  certain  case.  A 
criminal  against  whom  Pliny  was  appearing,  died 
of  disease.  It  was  said  that  the  phantom  of  the 
advocate  seemed  to  haunt  the  mind  of  the  wrong- 
doer, threatening  him  with  a  sword.  "  I  dare  not," 
says  the  famous  letter  writer,  "  affirm  positively  that 
this  story  is  true,  but  it  deserves  to  be  for  its  excellent 
moral."  We  are  not  informed  at  what  time  of  the 
night  these  experiences  took  place.  This  was  regarded 
as  of  importance.  A  distinction  was  drawn  between 
the  dreams  that  come  before  and  after  midnight. 
The  latter  were  thought  to  be  more  clear  and  true.1 

1  Hor.  Sat,  i.  10,  33.     Tlin.  Ep.  i.  18;  iii.  5. 


DREAMS   AND  APPARITIONS  33 

As  to  the  apparitions  seen  in  waking  hours,  the 
same  principle  held  good  in  Roman  times  as  now. 
The  ghosts  shunned  living  company.  Our  northern 
visitants  prefer  for  this  reason  the  evening  or  the 
night,  when  all  is  quiet.  The  southern  ghost  can  also 
come  abroad  at  midday,  when  the  heat  of  the  sun 
has  driven  everybody  indoors  for  a  siesta.  Curtius 
Rufus,  a  man  of  such  humble  birth  that,  as  Tiberius 
wittily  said,  he  was  his  own  ancestor,  was  walking 
one  day  at  noon  along  the  deserted  colonnades  of  an 
African  city.  The  form  of  a  woman  of  more  than 
the  customary  stature  moved  before  him,  and  was 
heard  to  say,  "You,  Rufus,  shall  come  into  this 
province  as  pro-consul."  And  this  came  true.  Thus 
the  life  of  dreamland  passed  into  that  of  reality. 
Dream  or  apparition,  it  was  all  one.  The  phantoms 
that  came  in  the  night,  seemed  also  in  the  daytime 
to  flit  through  the  white  porticoes  shimmering  in  the 
hot  light,  or  through  the  cooler  chambers  of  the 
temples,  or  through  the  woods  with  their  motionless 
shadows.1 

The  first  and  most  obvious  theory  about  these 
appearances  was  that  they  were  genuine.  No 
difficulties  beset  this  theory  so  far  as  it  related  to  the 
reappearance  of  the  dead.  Like  many  favourite 
hypotheses,  in  being  lifted  beyond  the  range  of 
verification,  it  was  also  removed  from  the  perils  of 
disproof.     Hence  it  remained  an  article  of  general 

1  Tac.  Ann,  xi.  21, 
C 


34         THE  WORSHIP   OF  THE   ROMANS 

belief,  that  the  departed  can  return  to  the  dreams 
of  the  living,  a  belief  so  nobly  expressed  in  a 
sonnet  of  Milton.  The  following  words  were  dictated 
by  a  young  widow  for  the  grave  of  her  departed 
companion.  "To  the  adorable  blessed  soul  of  L. 
Sempronius  Firmus.  We  knew,  we  loved  each  other 
from  childhood  ;  married,  an  impious  hand  separated 
us  at  once.  Oh,  infernal  gods,  do  be  kind  and 
merciful  to  him,  and  let  him  appear  to  me  in  the 
silent  hours  of  the  night.  And  also  let  me  share  his 
fate,  that  we  may  be  reunited  dulcius  et  celerhis." 
"  I  have  left  the  two  adverbs  in  their  original  form," 
says  Prof.  Lanciani,  "their  exquisite  feeling  defies 
translation."1 

No  ancient  conception  is  more  impressive  than 
that  of  the  furies  who  pursue  the  guilty.  Whether 
they  haunt  the  house  of  Pelops,  dogging  the  steps 
of  Clytemnestra  or  of  Orestes,  or  whether  again  they 
scourge  the  criminals  who  occupied  the  throne  of  the 
Caesars,  they  strike  us  with  a  strange  and  tragic 
touch.  One  who  reads  the  Eumenides  of  Aeschylus 
is  at  first  driven  to  wonder  that  Orestes  should 
be  punished  for  his  obedience  to  the  injunctions  of 
filial  duty.  If,  however,  we  place  ourselves  at  the 
ancient  standpoint,  our  wonder  vanishes.  The  soul 
of  the  murdered  man  or  woman  comes  back  and 
hovers  over  the  couch  of  the  slayer,  whether  the 
murder  were  justifiable  or  not.     As  time  passed,  this 

1  Pagan  and  Chr,  Rome,  261, 


DREAMS  AND   APPARITIONS  35 

reappearance  was  thought  to  be  confined  to  those 
wrongly  put  to  death.  In  this  way  there  continued 
one  of  the  strongest  motives  against  murder  that 
could  possibly  be  found.  It  was  believed  that  the 
murderer  was  racked  with  dread,  overawed  by 
ghastly  apparitions,  night  and  day.  And  the  belief 
brought  its  own  fulfilment.  The  criminal  was  in  un- 
ceasing expectancy,  and  his  overwrought  imagination 
painted  about  him  the  figures  of  his  victims.  The 
pages  of  the  Roman  historians  make  it  clear  that  we 
are  not  dealing  now  with  any  artifice  of  the  Greek 
dramatists,  but  with  a  tradition  which  had  continued 
in  Rome  from  a  past  far  beyond  the  first  contact 
with  the  Greeks. 

Listen  to  the  threats  of  Ovid,  directed  against  a 
private  enemy,  threats  which  were  more  than  a  mere 
manner  of  speaking.  "  However  death  may  come 
to  me,  I  will  strive  to  break  from  the  borders  of  the 
river  of  hell,  and  in  vengeance  I  will  lay  my  cold 
hands  on  your  brow.  Waking,  you  shall  look  upon 
me ;  in  the  still  shadow  of  night  I  will  seem  to  come 
and  shatter  your  slumbers.  Whatever  you  do,  I  will 
fly  before  you  in  your  sight.  I  will  raise  my  lament. 
You  shall  not  find  rest  anywhere.  Knotted  lashes 
shall  sound  in  your  ears.  Torches  entwined  with 
snakes  shall  always  smoke  before  your  guilty 
countenance.  You  shall  be  driven  on  by  the  furies 
in  life  and  in  death.  For  life  is  too  short  for  your 
chastisement."    On  the  night  of  the  assassination  of 


36         THE  WORSHIP  OF  THE  ROMANS 

Galba,  Otho  (the  story  went)  was  heard  to  start 
up  from  sleep  with  loud  groans,  and  was  found  lying 
on  the  ground  before  his  couch  by  those  who  came 
to  his  assistance.  He  tried  by  every  means  to 
appease  the  manes  of  Galba,  who  seemed  to  be 
driving  him  forth.  Shortly  before  Domitian  was 
murdered,  he  thought  that  the  Stoic  thinker  Rusticus, 
whom  he  had  put  to  death,  came  upon  him  in  a 
dream  with  a  drawn  sword,  while  the  figure  of 
Athena  which  was  in  his  chamber,  threw  away  her 
armour  and  leaped  into  a  chasm  with  her  chariot 
drawn  by  black  horses.  But  the  name  round  which 
these  legends  most  gathered  was  that  of  the  matri- 
cide Nero.  After  the  murder  of  Agrippina  he  could 
no  longer  endure  to  look  upon  the  sea  and  the  coasts 
by  which  it  had  been  done.  For,  remarked  the 
historian,  the  face  of  Nature  did  not  change  like  that 
of  the  flatterers  who  hastened  to  congratulate  the 
young  emperor  on  his  crime.  And  some  believed 
that  the  sound  of  a  trumpet  came  from  the  neigh- 
bouring hills,  and  that  wailing  was  heard  to  proceed 
from  the  tomb  of  his  mother.  He  woke  to  the 
awful  character  of  his  act  when  it  was  too  late,  and 
although  he  was  encouraged  by  the  congratulations 
of  the  army,  the  senate,  and  the  nation,  he  could  not 
bear  at  the  time  or  afterwards  the  consciousness 
of  his  guilt,  and  confessed  often  that  he  was  hounded 
on  by  the  phantom  of  his  mother,  the  scourges  and 
fiery  torches  of  the  furies.     He   tried  to  summon 


DREAMS  AND  APPARITIONS  37 

forth  her  manes,  and  to  appease  them  by  the  means 
suggested  to  him  by  the  astrologers.  But  it  was  in 
vain.  Lucan  could  see  him  "ghastly  pale  at  the 
sight  of  his  mother's  torch."1 

In  the  belief  of  the  Romans,  the  right  to  live  was 
not  estimated  more  highly  than  the  right  to  receive 
proper  burial.  We  shall  see  in  the  next  chapter  the 
thoughts  upon  which  this  right  was  based.  At  any 
rate,  it  was  so  paramount  that  even  the  criminal  was 
not  refused  the  burial  ceremonies.  If,  however,  it 
happened  so  by  any  chance,  the  soul  of  the  dead 
disturbed  the  peace  of  the  living.  When  the  mad 
Emperor  Gaius  was  killed,  his  body  was  but  half- 
burnt  and  half-buried.  His  sisters,  whom  he  had 
banished,  returned  from  exile  on  his  death,  and  they 
exhumed  the  body  of  their  brother,  burnt  it,  and 
buried  it  in  the  customary  fashion.  Till  this  was 
done,  the  keepers  of  the  Lamian  Park  were  haunted 
by  his  ghost.  Every  night  something  dreadful  and 
mysterious  occurred  in  the  house  in  which  he  was 
slain,  until  it  was  burnt  down.2 

Pliny  used  to  correspond  with  Licinius  Sura  in 
matters  of  scientific  interest.  In  one  of  his  letters 
he  gives  us  what  is,  perhaps,  the  best  Roman  ghost 
story.  As  so  often  happens,  Pliny  could  not  give 
this  at  first  hand,  but  he  assures  that  it  rested  on 
excellent  authority.     There  was  a  large  mansion  at 

1  Ovid,  Ibis,  156  ff.     Suet.  Otho,  7.     Dio  C.  lxvii.  16.     Tac.  Ann. 
xiv.  10.  2  Suet.  Gains,  59. 


33         THE  WORSHIP   OF  THE  ROMANS. 

Athens,  which  was  notorious  for  its  unhealthiness. 
When  all  was  quiet  at  night,  noises  as  of  iron  were 
heard,  and,  if  you  listened  carefully,  rattling  of  chains 
seemed  to  come  gradually  near.  Then  the  ghost 
appeared!  An  old  man,  wasted  and  squalid,  with 
long  flowing  beard  and  towzled  hair.  He  had  fetters 
on  his  ankles,  and  chains  on  his  wrists,  and  kept 
shaking  them.  The  occupants  were  kept  awake  all 
night  in  a  state  of  terror.  Want  of  sleep  produced 
illness,  and,  as  their  alarm  grew,  death  came  to 
release  them.  For  in  the  daytime,  although  the 
ghost  was  gone,  the  memory  of  the  figure  persisted. 
The  house  was  deserted,  and  left  entirely  to  the 
occupancy  of  the  ghost,  Mi  monstro  relicta.  It  was 
advertised  to  be  sold  or  to  let,  if  anyone  should  be 
willing  to  take  it.  The  philosopher  Athenodorus 
comes  to  Athens,  reads  the  placard.  The  low  figure 
leads  him  to  make  inquiries.  The  information  he 
receives  not  only  fails  to  scare  him,  but  rather  stimu- 
lates him  to  take  the  house.  When  night  began  to 
fall,  he  gave  orders  that  his  couch  should  be  set  in 
the  front  part  of  the  house,  and  calls  for  writing 
materials  and  a  light.  He  dismisses  all  the  atten- 
dants to  the  interior  of  the  building,  and  began  to 
write,  so  that  his  attention  should  leave  no  room 
for  empty  imaginings.  At  first  all  was  quiet.  The 
iron  rattles  ;  chains  are  moved  about.  He  kept  his 
eyes  fixed  on  his  tablets  without  raising  his  stile, 
and  stiffened  his  mind  to  control  his  hearing.     The 


DREAMS   AND   APPARITIONS  39 

noise  became  more  frequent ;   approached  ;    seemed 
to  be  on  the  threshold,  and  now  to  have  passed  it. 
He  looks  up.     He  sees  and  recognises  the  phantom 
described  to  him.     It  stood  and  made  a  gesture  as 
though  it  summoned  him.      The  philosopher,  with 
a  coolness  for  which,  unfortunately,  he  himself  was 
the   only  evidence,   motioned  to  the  ghost  to  wait 
a   moment,  and   began  writing   again.      The   ghost 
replied  by  rattling  his  fetters  over  the  writer's  head. 
He  looks  up,  and  finding  the  same  gesture  made, 
takes  the  lamp  at  once  and  follows  the  phantom, 
which   went  with  a  slow  step,  as   though   dragged 
down  by  the  irons.     It  moved   into  the  courtyard 
of  the  house  and  suddenly  faded  away,  leaving  the 
philosopher  alone,  who  marked  the  place  of  its  dis- 
appearance by  making  a  small  heap  of  leaves.     On 
the  next  day  he  went  to  the  magistrates,  and  suggests 
that  the  spot  should  be  dug  up.     A  skeleton  is  found 
in  fetters,  and  is  buried  in  due  course  at  the  public 
expense.     After  this  had  been  done,  and  the  shade 
was  laid  to  rest,  the  house  ceased   to  be  haunted. 
This  story  shows  us  how  the  old  conception  was  still 
powerful.     The  ghost  of  the  unburied  dead  torments 
the  living  until  it  receives  its  due.     Burial  is  as  much 
a  means  of  ensuring  the  comfort  of  the  survivors 
as  a  mark  of  respect  to  the  departed.1 

We  have  seen  how  the  spirits  of  the  dead  returned 
to  execute  vengeance  on  the  murderer,  or  to  claim 

1  Plin.  Ep.  vii.  27. 


4o         THE   WORSHIP   OF  THE   ROMANS 

proper  burial.  It  is  natural  that  means  should  be 
employed  by  the  living  to  bring  about  these  visits, 
if,  that  is,  any  end  can  be  satisfied  by  them.  It 
was  thought  that  knowledge  of  the  future  could  be 
obtained  by  invoking  the  dead,  and  a  whole  method 
was  laid  down  for  this  purpose — psychomantia.  The 
means  employed  were  very  terrible,  it  was  thought. 
Cicero  expressed  the  general  mind  when  he  was 
prosecuting  Vatinius.  He  charged  him  with  prac- 
tising unheard  of  and  wicked  rites,  with  summoning 
the  souls  of  those  below,  and  sacrificing  boys  to 
the  shades.  The  scandalmongers  who  charged  Piso 
with  the  poisoning  of  Germanicus  attempted  to 
excite  suspicion  against  him  by  similar  accusations. 
Human  remains,  it  was  said,  such  as  necromancers 
use,  were  found  underneath  his  floors  and  buried 
in  his  walls,  so  that  it  looked  as  if  he  had  been 
making  magic  sacrifices  to  the  shades.  Yet  milder 
methods  than  these  were  in  vogue.  Cicero's  friend 
Appius  does  not  seem  to  have  suffered  from  his 
reputation  for  being  able  to  call  up  the  spirits.  The 
sacrifice  of  a  cock  and  the  description  of  magical 
figures  seems  to  have  been  enough.  Or  the  strains 
of  a  "summoning  hymn,"  such  as  is  still  used  by 
modern  spiritualists  at  their  meetings,  induced  the 
departed  to  return  to  earth  again.  A  few  months 
ago,  when  I  was  present  at  a  spiritualistic  meeting, 
the  clairvoyant  girl  upon  the  platform  described,  to 
the  satisfaction  of  the  audience,  a  number  of  spirits 


DREAMS   AND  APPARITIONS  41 

whom  she  saw  hovering  over  our  heads.  These  were 
recognised  from  her  descriptions  as  persons  who  had 
"  passed  on."  Bishop  Bonner  came  to  another  seance 
in  Nottingham,  and  admitted  to  the  company  that 
he  was  not  exactly  comfortable  in  his  present  abode. 
There  is  no  need  then  to  seek  distant  analogies  for 
what  is  so  characteristic  of  ancient  beliefs ;  they  have 
survived  to  this  very  hour  within  our  midst.1 

Let  us  turn  from  the  case  in  which  the  phantom 
is  of  the  dead,  to  that  in  which  it  is  of  a  living 
person.  It  is  to  be  noticed  that  the  person  whose 
wraith  appears  is  not  always  aware  of  this  fact. 
Pliny  seems  not  to  have  been  aware  that  he  was 
haunting  Certus.  Virgil  in  this  and  in  other  respects 
represents  to  us  the  beliefs  of  his  contemporaries. 
The  Aeneid  is  not  only  a  mine  of  the  legal  and 
religious  usages  of  Rome.  It  is  filled  also  with  folk- 
lore. The  form  of  Anchises  appeared  to  his  son  in 
Sicily,  and  commanded  him  to  take  a  chosen  band 
of  retainers,  and  to  continue  his  wanderings  into 
Italy.  Now  although  the  phantom  appeared  often 
to  Aeneas  in  his  sleep,  Anchises  himself  was  ignorant 
that  it  was  so.  Here  again  folklore  refuses  the 
only  available  objective  test,  when  it  says  that  the 
phantom  of  a  man  can  come  unknown  to  him  and 
visit  another.  Servius  mentions  two  theories;  one, 
that  the  souls  of  the  dead  occupy  heaven  while  their 
wraiths  are  with  the  infernal  spirits ;  while  the  other 

1  Cic.  Div.  i.  132  j  in  Vatin,  14.     Tac.  Ann.  ii.  69. 


42  THE  WORSHIP   OF  THE  ROMANS 

is,  that  a  certain  power  is  sent  forth  by  the  god 
which  can  transform  itself  into  a  human  figure. 
This  last  thought  took  pictorial  shape  in  the  god 
Morpheus,  the  messenger  of  the  gods.  "  No  one 
could  pourtray  more  skilfully  the  gait,  the  features, 
and  the  voice  of  a  man — to  each  he  adds  fit  garb 
and  utterances."  He  imitates  men  only.  Another 
god,  we  are  told,  took  the  form  of  wild  beasts  or 
birds  or  of  serpents.  While  a  third  had  for  his 
province  earth,  stone,  water,  wood,  and  lifeless  things 
in  general.  Although  this  mythological  account  is 
of  Greek  origin,  it  answers  well  enough  to  the 
Roman  belief.  The  two  theories,  that  the  apparition 
comes  from  us  without  our  knowledge,  and  that  it  is 
sent  by  a  god,  are  combined  by  Tennyson  : 

"As  the  likeness  of  a  dying  man 
Without  his  knowledge,  from  him  flits  to  warn 
A  far-off  friendship  that  he  comes  no  more  ; 
So  he,  the  god  of  dreams,  who  heard  my  cry, 
Drew  from  thyself  the  likeness  of  thyself 
Without  thy  knowledge,  and  thy  shadow  past 
Before  me.  .  .  .* 

In  the  Aeneid,  Virgil  seems  to  waver  among 
these  conflicting  ideas.  Sometimes  the  dream  is  a 
messenger  of  deity.  Those  who  sleep  on  the  skins 
of  the  slaughtered  victims  in  the  temple  at  Albunea, 
see  in  the  night  the  phantoms  sent  by  the  gods. 
But  there  are  two  passages  in  which  the  poet  brings 
before  us  traditions  of  an  immemorial  antiquity ;  the 

Ovid,  Meta.  xi.  634.     Tennyson,  Demeter  and  Persephone. 


DREAMS  AND  APPARITIONS  43 

descriptions   of   the   Tree   of   Dreams,   and   of   the 
Gates  of  Sleep. 

"  In  the  open  court  which  adjoins  the  portals  of 
hell,  an  elm  tree  stands.  It  spreads  its  aged  branches 
with  their  deep  shadows  over  a  huge  space.  Men 
say  that  deceitful  dreams  take  up  their  abode  here, 
and  cling  to  all  the  leaves."  The  dreams,  then, 
are  like  birds;  like  that  god  of  sleep  who  perched 
on  the  lofty  pine  tree  of  Ida,  in  the  shape  of  a 
bronze-coloured  hawk.  In  a  fresco  in  the  catacombs 
of  Calixtus,  birds  are  painted  symbolizing  souls  who 
have  been  separated  from  their  bodies,  and  are 
playing  in  fields  of  roses  around  the  Tree  of  Life. 
Before  the  dreams  were  regarded  as  messengers  of 
the  gods,  they  were  conceived  to  be  the  souls  of 
human  beings  visiting  others  in  their  sleep.  This 
elm  tree  then  is  really  in  its  origin  the  home  of 
souls.1  We  shall  have  occasion  in  a  future  chapter 
to  trace  the  close  ties  which  were  thought  to  bind 
the  life  of  trees  with  that  of  mankind.  Hence  this 
elm  tree  is  also  a  tree  of  life,  like  that  over  which 
the  flaming  sword,  that  turned  every  way,  kept  guard 
in  Paradise.  The  belief  in  trees  of  life  is  almost 
universal.  In  Sweden  the  names  of  many  families 
are  expressly  taken  from  the  trees  which  stand 
before  their  dwellings.  The  family  of  Linnaeus, 
with  two  others,  took  their  name  from  a  lime.     It  is 

1  The  race  that  first  colonized  the  Campagna  was  buried  in  trunks 
of  trees,  etc.     Lanciani,  254. 


44         THE  WORSHIP   OF   THE  ROMANS 

said  that  a  branch  of  this  tree  ceased  to  put  forth 
leaves  when  the  daughter  of  the  great  botanist 
died.  It  is  still  standing,  and  held  in  high  respect. 
Another  family  derive  their  name  from  an  elm  which 
used  to  stand,  like  the  elm  of  hell,  in  an  open  space. 
There  is  an  old  legend  of  German  origin,  according 
to  which  an  ash  was  the  father  and  an  elm  the 
mother  of  mankind.  So  also  at  Rome,  a  life  almost 
human  was  attributed  to  the  elm ;  it  was  described 
as  wedded  to  the  vines  which  were  often  trained 
upon  it.  Less  than  thirty  miles  away,  the  Appian 
Road  passed  amid  the  Falernian  vineyards,  where 
many  an  elm  supported  the  rich  grape  clusters,  and 
may  have  been  thought  to  contribute  to  the  strange 
intoxicating  power  of  wine.  The  lives  of  which  the 
elm  was  the  home,  were  lived  again  in  the  excite- 
ment of  the  drinker.  There  may  have  been  some 
mystic  purpose  in  the  planting  of  elms  round 
sepulchres.  When  Achilles  slew  Eetion,  he  was 
buried  with  due  ceremony,  and  mountain  nymphs 
planted  elms  around  the  mound  which  contained  his 
remains.  If  we  may  interpret  this  usage  in  the  light 
of  the  ideas  we  have  been  considering,  the  elm  tree 
received  the  soul  of  the  buried  man. 

There  was  an  old  belief  that  dreams  became  false 
at  the  fall  of  the  leaf.  If  Virgil  had  this  in  mind,  we 
must  understand  the  dreams  to  cling  under  the  leaves, 
not  of  necessity  in  the  image  of  birds. 

"  There  are  twin  gates  of  Sleep,  whereof  the  one 


DREAMS   AND   APPARITIONS  45 

is  said  to  be  of  horn.  By  this  an  easy  dismission  is 
granted  to  the  true  spirits.  Another  gleams  with 
the  polish  of  dazzling  ivory.  But  the  manes  send 
thereby  false  dreams  to  heaven."  This  passage,  with 
which  Virgil  brings  to  a  close  the  visit  of  Aeneas 
and  the  Sibyl  to  the  shades,  is  imitated  from  the 
nineteenth  book  of  the  Odyssey.  "Twain  are  the 
gates  of  fleeting  dreams — these  of  horn,  those  of 
ivory.  The  dreams  that  pass  through  the  polished 
ivory  cheat  with  vain  promises,  and  bring  unaccom- 
plished words.  But  the  dreams  that  pass  through 
the  smooth  horn,  bring  sure  things  to  pass  when  a 
mortal  sees  them."  We  shall  see  how  the  images 
of  things  float  away  like  films  and  enter  through  our 
eyes,  and  how  influences  stream  forth  on  things  from 
the  eyes.  "  By  the  gate  of  horn  is  meant  the  eyes ; 
which  are  of  the  colour  and  hardness  of  horn.  The 
ivory  gate  is  the  mouth,  and  receives  its  name  from 
the  teeth.  True  shades  come  forth  from  the  gate  of 
horn,  because  those  things  are  true  which  we  see 
with  our  eyes.  While  false  ones  come  through  the 
gate  of  ivory,  because  those  things  are  for  the  most 
part  false  which  we  hear."  An  attentive  reading  of 
the  passage  from  the  Odyssey  will  show  that  this 
was  the  meaning  of  Homer.  Hence  when  Virgil 
dismisses  the  travellers  through  the  gates  of  ivory, 
he  is  reminding  us  that  it  is  the  poet's  voice  that  has 
given  them  life.1 

1  Taubmann,  ad  True.  ii.  6,  8. 


46         THE  WORSHIP   OF  THE   ROMANS 

Up  to  this  point  we  have  not  departed  very 
far  from  the  primitive  belief,  that  dreams  were 
caused  by  the  actual  visit  of  the  souls  of  others  to 
our  own.  The  answering  idea,  that  in  dreams  our 
own  souls  leave  our  bodies,  finds  little  support  at 
Rome  in  historical  times,  where  living  persons  seem 
to  have  been  unconscious  that  they  were  entering 
into  the  dream  experiences  of  others. 

The  distinction  that  begins  to  be  drawn  between 
true  and  false  dreams  is  a  sign  that  the  old  con- 
ception is  breaking  up.  Before  dreams  are  regarded 
in  the  natural  and  scientific  temper  of  later  writers, 
they  pass  through  an  intermediate  stage,  in  which 
they  are  thought  to  be  unimportant  in  themselves, 
but  important  as  signs  of  forthcoming  events.  They 
are  interesting  for  what  they  indicate.  This  stand- 
point is  still  that  of  a  large  part  of  the  modern 
public. 

The  gods  often  sent  dreams,  by  which  they  com- 
manded altars  and  temples  to  be  raised  to  them.  In 
the  time  of  the  Social  War,  a  Roman  lady,  Caecilia 
by  name,  had  a  dream,  in  accordance  with  which 
the  senate  restored  the  temple  of  Juno  the  Saviour. 
One  of  the  most  famous  stories  of  Roman  history 
accounted  for  the  repetition  of  the  great  games  on 
one  occasion  as  follows :  Before  the  celebration 
began,  and  as  the  people  were  all  seated  together 
round  the  great  circus,  a  slave  was  led  down  the 
arena,  whose  head  and  arms  were  fixed  to  a  fork- 


DREAMS  AND   APPARITIONS  47 

shaped  arrangement  of  wood.  Soon  after  Jupiter 
appeared  by  night  to  a  Roman  farmer,  and  told  him 
that  the  master  of  the  dance  had  not  pleased  him. 
He  ordered  the  farmer  to  report  his  dream  to  the 
Senate.  But  even  then  the  government  viewed  with 
great  disfavour  portents  and  wonders  which  befel 
private  individuals.  The  farmer  disobeyed  the  god. 
A  second  time  he  received  the  same  warning,  with 
the  threat  that  evil  would  befal  him  if  he  again 
disobeyed.  Not  even  then  were  his  scruples  over- 
come. His  son  died,  and  the  warning  came  for  the 
third  time.  He  himself  became  exceedingly  weak, 
and  called  his  friends  together.  They  advised  him 
to  go  to  the  senate-house  in  a  sedan  chair,  and  when 
he  had  fulfilled  the  commands  of  the  god  by  informing 
the  Senate,  his  feet  became  strong  again,  and  he 
returned  home.  The  narrative  shows  how  great 
punctiliousness  the  gods  demanded  in  the  devotion 
paid  to  them.  The  slave,  who  was  beaten  along 
the  arena,  took  the  first  place,  that  which  ought  to 
have  been  filled  by  the  leader  of  the  Salii.  And  the 
god,  as  if  he  claimed  to  put  the  worst  admissible 
construction  upon  the  acts  of  worship,  dealt  with 
this  poor  slave  as  though  he  were  the  appointed 
leader  of  the  procession.  But  we  are  forgetting  the 
dreamer.  His  experience  was  doubtless  like  that 
of  many  another  Roman,  who  saw,  in  the  visions 
of  the  night,  the  admonitions  of  heaven.1 

1  Cic.  Div.  i.  99.     Liv.  ii.  36. 


48         THE  WORSHIP   OF  THE  ROMANS 

Let  us  now  see  how  the  Romans  interpreted 
them.  When  the  historian  Suetonius  consulted  Pliny 
about  his  dream,  he  was  told  in  reply  that  it  made  a 
considerable  difference,  whether  you  dreamt  how 
things  would  happen,  or  on  the  contrary.  From 
hints  such  as  this  we  gather  that  there  was  a  com- 
plete system  of  rules  by  which  the  interpretation  of 
dreams  could  be  ascertained.  The  professors  of  the 
art,  coniectores,  were  not  native  to  Rome.  According 
to  Chrysippus  the  art  was  a  faculty,  which  discerned 
and  explained  those  things  which  in  dreams  are 
signified  to  mankind  from  the  gods.  One,  who  was 
about  to  run  at  the  Olympic  sports,  dreamt  that  he 
was  riding  in  a  four-horse  chariot.  In  the  morning 
he  visits  the  interpreter.  "  You  will  win,"  he  is  told, 
"  for  that  is  signified  by  the  swiftness  and  power 
of  the  horses."  He  then  consulted  Antiphon.  "  You 
are  bound  to  lose ;  don't  you  see  that  four  ran  before 
you?" 

Another  competitor  dreamt  that  he  had  be- 
come an  eagle.  "  A  capital  sign !  The  eagle  flies 
quickest  of  all  birds."  Off  he  went  to  Antiphon. 
"  Blockhead  !  don't  you  see  you  are  beaten  ?  Why 
that  bird  is  one  that  chases  other  birds,  and  since 
it  drives  them  before  it,  it  must  be  last."  This 
valuable  information  was  brought  within  the  reach  of 
the  slenderest  purses.1 

There  are  two  ways  of  meeting  superstitions  of 

1  Cic.  Div.  ii.  130,  144. 


DREAMS   AND   APPARITIONS  49 

iris  kind.  One  consists  in  showing  their  inherent 
rontradictions.  The  way  in  which  Cicero  deals  with 
;he  interpretation  of  dreams  in  his  treatise  on  Divina- 
;ion  is  of  course  unanswerable.  He  demands  a 
:riterion  to  distinguish  between  the  false  and  the 
rue.  He  points  out,  that  although  a  dream  should 
)ccasionally  turn  out  to  be  true,  the  vastly  greater 
lumber  of  cases  in  which  their  premonitions  are  false, 
brbids  us  to  accept  them:  just  as  nowadays  the  occur- 
ence of  even  a  few  exceptions  to  a  generalization  of 
icience,  throws  doubt  upon  it.  But  Cicero  was  in  the 
ninority.  The  dominant  school  of  thinkers,  the 
Stoics,  men  of  the  highest  reputation  for  consistent 
hinking,  had  undertaken  the  advocacy  of  the  belief 
n  dreams.  Carneades,  whom  Cicero  followed  in  this 
natter,  was  like  a  solitary  and  brilliant  champion 
vithstanding  an  army.  Being  in  the  minority, 
le  was  in  the  right.  But  who  ever  heard  of  a  super- 
itition  being  overthrown  by  an  argument  ?  This 
error  and  darkness  of  mind  must  be  dispelled, 
lays  Lucretius,  by  the  aspect  and  law  of  Nature. 
rhis  he  lays  down  as  follows  : — "  Generally  we  seem 
0  meet  in  our  sleep  the  things  to  which  we  are 
Irawn  by  our  tastes,  or  these  in  which  we  have 
Deen  busied,  and  the  mind  has  been  eagerly 
employed.  Lawyers  think  they  plead  causes  and 
3raw  up  covenants  of  sale,  generals  that  they  fight 
md  engage  in  battle,  sailors  that  they  wage  and 
:any  on  war  with  the  winds,  we  think  that  we  pursue 

D 


5o         THE   WORSHIP   OF  THE   ROMANS 

our  task  and  investigate  the  nature  of  things  con- 
stantly, and  consign  it  when  discovered  to  writings  in 
our  native  tongue."  And  this  applies,  not  only  to 
mankind,  but  to  all  living  creatures. 

With  a  graphic  touch,  which  shows  that  Lucretius 
had  often  watched  the  habits  of  animals,  he  says, 
"Often  during  soft  repose  dogs  all  at  once  throw 
about  their  legs  and  suddenly  utter  cries,  and  re- 
peatedly snuff  the  air  with  their  nostrils,  as  though 
they  were  on  the  track  of  game":  a  picture  that 
might  have  been  drawn  from  the  terrier  lying  yonder 
on  the  hearth-rug. 

The  theory  of  Democritus  that  "  pictures  of  things 
and  thin  shapes  are  emitted  from  things  off  their 
surface,  to  which  an  image  serves  as  a  kind  of  film," 
puts  into  a  scientific  form  a  superstition  of  which  we 
find  traces  at  Rome.  It  was  believed  that  mirrors 
became  worn  out  through  being  looked  at,  as  though 
the  images  streamed  from  our  eyes.  The  word  for 
envy,  invidia,  means  simply  looking  upon,  that  is  to 
say,  turning  "an  evil  eye."  The  Roman  farmer 
knew  well  the  reason  if  his  crops  or  live  stock  turned 
out  badly :  some  ill-disposed  neighbour  had  looked 
upon  them.  Lucretius  then  uses  one  superstition  to 
confound  another  when  he  explains  dreams  and 
ghosts  by  the  "  idols  of  things."  "  These  like  films 
peeled  off  from  the  surface  of  things,  fly  to  and  fro 
through  the  air  and  do  likewise  frighten  our  minds 
when  they  present  themselves  to  us  awake  as  well 


DREAMS  AND   APPARITIONS  51 

as  in  sleep."  He  discloses  to  us  the  current  beliefs  of 
his  day  when  he  proceeds :  "  I  will  try  to  make  this 
clear,  in  order  that  we  may  not  believe  souls  to  break 
loose  from  Acheron,  or  that  shades  fly  about  among 
the  living." 

"Sleep,"  says  the  elder  Pliny,  "is  the  retreat  of 
the  spirit  into  itself."  Like  Lucretius,  he  notices  that 
other  beings  than  man  have  dreams.  He  leaves  the 
matter  undecided  whether  dreams  bring  warnings  of 
what  is  to  happen.  "  It  is  generally  agreed  that  the 
dreams  which  follow  upon  eating  and  drinking,  and 
those  which  come  when  we  have  fallen  asleep  again, 
are  unmeaning." 

His  nephew  was  much  more  credulous,  and  we 
owe  to  him  some  of  the  best  stories  that  have  come 
down  from  the  Romans.1 

Even  Cicero  had  dreams  which  events  confirmed. 
When  he  went  into  exile,  he  passed  through  Atina 
and  spent  the  night  at  a  country  house  there.  After 
being  awake  nearly  the  whole  night,  he  fell  asleep 
towards  daybreak,  and  slumbered  heavily  till  about 
seven  o'clock.  He  dreamt  that  he  was  wandering 
through  a  lonely  country  in  a  melancholy  mood,  and 
that  Marius,  whose  consular  insignia  were  wreathed 
with  laurel,  met  him.  "  Why  are  you  sad  ? "  "  I  am 
driven  from  my  country  by  violence."  a  Be  of  good 
cheer,"  said  Marius,  and  commanded  his  nearest 
attendant  to  take  the  orator  to  Marius'  monument. 

1  Lucr.  iv.  962  ff.  Munro's  trans.     Plin.  N.  H.  x.  211. 


52  THE   WORSHIP   OF  THE  ROMANS 

"  You  will  find  safety  there,"  he  said  to  Cicero.  On 
hearing  the  dream,  Sallust  exclaimed  that  a  speedy 
and  glorious  return  awaited  the  exile.  And,  in  fact, 
it  was  at  the  Monument  of  Marius  that  Cicero's 
recall  was  decreed.1 

1  Div.  i.  58. 


THE   SOUL 
AND    ITS    COMPANIONS 


THE  old  Romans  had  a  more  or  less  systematic 
theory  of  themselves,  or  anthropology.  The  head 
was  thought  to  be  the  abode  of  the  soul,  and  they 
took  great  care  lest  evil  influences  should  be  directed 
upon  it.  The  life  of  the  priest  of  Jove  was  watched 
over  almost  as  though  the  common  weal  depended 
upon  it.  He  was  forbidden  to  go  abroad  with  un- 
covered head,  and  wore  a  special  kind  of  cap  to 
protect  it.1  During  sacrifice  the  toga  was  brought 
over  the  back  of  the  head  as  though  to  guard  it 
against  dangers  from  behind.  In  fact,  the  word  for 
head  is  almost  synonymous  with  life  throughout 
Roman  literature.  A  vow  bound  the  head  ;  the 
price  of  the  head  was  the  price  of  one's  life.  Instead 
of  a  '  man  accursed  to  Jove/  his  head  was  spoken  of 
as  so  devoted.2  One  of  the  most  striking  features  in 
the  palace  of  a  noble  Roman  was  the  collection  of 
the  wax   masks  of  his  ancestors,  preserved  in   the 

1  Gell.  N.A.x.  15. 

8  Hor.  2  Carm.  viii.  5.    Cic.  Off,  iii.  107.    Liv.  x.  38. 


54         THE   WORSHIP   OF  THE  ROMANS 

atrium.  The  preparation  of  these  can  have  been 
possible  only  at  an  advanced  stage  of  culture,  and 
must  have  replaced  an  earlier  and  simpler  custom. 
In  later  times  a  wax  effigy  replaced  the  corpse  on 
the  funeral  bier,  when  decomposition  had  proceeded 
too  far.1  I  venture  to  suggest  that  the  head  of  the 
deceased  man  was  preserved  originally  in  the  wooden 
cases  of  which  Pliny  and  Polybius  speak,  and  that  at 
a  later  time  the  mask  was  substituted.  I  owe  to  Mr. 
G.  H.  Skipwith  an  interesting  parallel,  for  which  he 
has  referred  me  to  an  essay  on  Brittany  by  the  late 
Dean  of  St.  Paul's.  "At  the  east  end  (of  the  Breton 
church)  are  the  heavy  brightly-painted  images ;  in 
other  parts  of  the  church  and  in  the  porch,  set  up  on 
shelves,  each  in  a  small  black  box  pierced  and  sur- 
mounted by  the  cross,  are  the  skulls  of  those  who 
have  worshipped  there,  taken  out  of  their  graves 
when  their  flesh  has  perished,  and  placed  on  high 
with  their  names — Cy  est  le  Chef  de  N. — in  the  sight 
of  their  children  when  they  come  to  pray.  They  are 
churches  of  the  dead  as  well  as  of  the  living."  The 
same  words  might  be  used  of  the  Roman  dwelling ; 
over  against  the  living  tenants  there  is  another 
company,  more  numerous,  who  claim  a  share  in  their 
enjoyments  ;  and  as  we  shall  see,  come  forth  to 
welcome  them  to  the  tomb,  after  bestowing  their 
ghostly  presence  and  help  during  this  life.2 

1  Baum.  Denkm.  310. 

2  Note. — May  we  see  in  this  an  explanation  of  the  phrase  '  os  resec- 
tum '  ?    This  is  ordinarily  rendered  '  bone,'  and  is  interpreted  as  the 


THE  SOUL  AND   ITS   COMPANIONS        55 

In  order  to  understand  this  and  other  beliefs,  we 
must  clear  our  minds  of  many  ideas  connected  with 
the  word  "soul."  We  must  not  think  of  it  as  im- 
material. Even  the  Greek  philosophers,  for  a  long 
time,  thought  the  soul  to  be  air,  or  water,  or  fire. 
Empedocles  derived  it  from  a  mixture  of  the  four 
elements.  Now  if  men  who  had  disciplined  their 
minds  to  connected  thinking  still  retained  ideas  of 
this  kind,  we  may  be  quite  sure  that  the  primitive 
beliefs  of  mankind  would  not  be  less  but  more  gross. 
It  might  even  be  advanced  that  these  material  con- 
ceptions of  the  soul  are  almost  universal  still.  It  is 
unlikely,  for  example,  that  Descartes  exaggerates  the 
common  tendency  in  this  direction  when  he  says  : 
"  What  the  soul  itself  was  I  either  did  not  stay  to 
consider,  or  if  I  did,  I  imagined  that  it  was  something 
extremely  rare  and  subtle,  like  wind,  or  flame,  or 
ether,  spread  through  my  grosser  parts."1  Hence, 
when  stories  are  told  which  connect  human  life  in  a 
special  way  with  any  material  object,  we  may  assume 
in  most  cases  that  the  object  is  thought  to  contain 
the  life,  or  that  it  is  actually  identified  with  it.  The 
life  is  thought  by  savages  to  be  bound  up  sometimes, 
not  only  with  some  part  of  the  body,  the  head  for 
instance,   but   also   with   external   objects.     Stanley 

cutting  off  of  a  limb  for  separate  burial.     With  this  sense,  it  would 
apply  as  well  to  the  skull  as  to  the  finger.     On  this  hypothesis,  cutting 
off  a  finger  is  a  survival  from  the  older  practice  of  cutting  off  the  head. 
Cic.  Legg.  ii.  55. 
1  Mcditat.  ii. 


56  THE   WORSHIP   OF   THE   ROMANS 

gave  a  goat  to  an  African  chief  on  one  occasion. 
When  some  missionaries  inquired  about  it  afterwards, 
no  answer  could  be  got  from  the  natives  ;  they 
thought  the  missionaries  believed  the  spirit  of  the 
chief  to  be  in  the  goat,  and  that  they  wished  to  get 
possession  of  it,  and  so  to  control  the  chief  himself.1 
There  are  traces  of  a  like  belief  at  Rome. 

The  life  of  the  citizen  was  in  some  way  dependent 
on  a  "genius,"  while  the  Roman  matrons  had  each  of 
them  a"juno."  Mr.  Jevons  has  suggested  that  the 
genius  of  the  Roman  was  really  his  external  soul.2 
It  took  at  times  the  shape  of  a  serpent,  and  is  so 
represented  upon  paintings.  Pliny  the  Elder  says 
that  the  Romans  got  the  custom  of  keeping  serpents 
as  pets,  when  the  worship  of  Aesculapius  came  from 
Epidaurus,3  but  it  seems  probable  that  even  before 
this  they  were  regarded  as  the  embodiments  of  their 
genii.  They  became  so  numerous,  owing  to  the 
immunity  from  hurt  which  they  enjoyed,  that,  if  it 
had  not  been  for  the  fires  which  devastated  the  city, 
they  would  have  multiplied  beyond,  endurance. 

An  appeal  to  the  genius  of  a  man  was  one  of  the 
strongest  of  supplications  ;  it  summoned  his  very  life 
to  the  help  of  the  suppliant.  Perhaps  the  genius  of 
each  man  guarded  him,  because  its  own  life  was 
bound  up  with  that  which  it  protected.  It  was 
thought  to  share  in  his  joys,  and  was  even  conceived 

1  Ward,  Five  Years  with  the  Congo  Cannibals,  53. 

2  Rom.  Quest,  pref.  47.  3  AT.  H.  xxix.  72. 


THE   SOUL  AND   ITS   COMPANIONS         57 

to  be  robbed  of  its  dues  by  one  who  abstained  from 
the  pleasures  of  life.  "  Curmudgeons,  parcipromi" 
says  one  of  Plautus'  young  men,  "  wage  war  with 
their  genii."1  Hence  the  Saturnalia,  the  season  of 
general  merriment,  was  thought  to  be  a  kind  of  holi- 
day for  them.  When  the  tasks  of  the  farmer  were 
done  for  the  year,  the  winter  time  called  forth  man's 
other  self,  and  released  him  from  the  fetters  of  care. 
Yet  the  other  self  was  mindful  of  the  shortness  of 
life,  not  forgetting  it  even  amid  the  winecups.3  It 
was  by  a  change  of  belief  that  the  genius  was  con- 
sidered to  pass  into  the  surviving  spirit  and  to 
become  one  with  it  when  death  came,  and  the  body 
was  dissolved  upon  the  pyre.  Thus  the  genius  of  the 
reigning  emperor  was  worshipped  during  his  life,  but 
after  death,  he  himself. 

As  the  genius  came  to  be  more  and  more  separated 
from  the  man,  it  was  regarded  as  the  companion  who 
guided  the  star  of  his  birth.3  When  the  genius  came 
thus  to  be  looked  upon  as  a  guardian  spirit,  the  cakes 
and  wine  which  it  first  received  as  its  necessary  food 
were  employed  as  propitiations. 

The  Roman  kept  his  birthday  in  honour  of  this 
"  other  self."  Only  words  of  good  omen  were  spoken. 
Frankincense,  cakes,  and  unmixed  wine,  were  offered 
on  an  altar  garlanded  with  flowers.  The  celebrant  clad 
in  white,  with  a  wreath  round  his  brows,  made  solemn 
prayers  for  the  coming  year.4 

1   True.  I.  ii.  80.  2  Virg.  Georg.  i.  302.     Hor.  Ep.  II.  i.  144. 

3  Hor.  Ep.  II.  ii.  187.    4  Tibullusll.  ii.  iff.  Ovid,  Trist.  III.  xiii.  136?. 


58  THE  WORSHIP   OF  THE   ROMANS 

The  Romans  even  spoke  of  the  genii  of  their 
gods.  This  custom  has  not  left  any  traces  earlier 
than  58  B.C.,  and  it  may  be  due  to  the  influence  of 
that  later  philosophy,  according  to  which  the  divine 
nature  was  removed  from  contact  with  material 
things.  The  genii,  accordingly,  came  to  be  looked 
upon  as  intermediaries  between  the  gods  and  man. 
Preller  compares  the  genius  of  a  god  to  the  genius 
of  a  place,  as  though  it  were  the  spirit  through 
whom  the  god  revealed  himself  to  his  worshippers  at 
his  several  temples.1 

Things  and  places  had  their  genii  as  well  as 
mankind  and  the  gods.  The  birthday  of  a  town  was 
kept  much  in  the  same  spirit  as  that  of  a  human 
being.  When  Cicero  was  returning  from  exile,  he 
was  met  by  his  daughter  at  Brindisi.  The  day 
happened  to  be  the  birthday  both  of  Tullia  and  the 
town.  When  this  came  to  the  ears  of  the  citizens, 
they  celebrated  the  joint  festival  with  the  utmost 
goodwill.2  The  feast  of  the  genius  of  the  Roman 
people  was  observed  on  the  ninth  of  October, 
although  the  city  was  said  to  have  been  founded  on 
the  day  of  the  Parilia,  Apr.  21.  The  genius  of  a 
place,  like  that  of  a  man,  took  the  shape  of  a  snake. 
A  wall  painting  from  Herculaneum  shows  the  snake 
twined  round  an  altar,  and  eating  the  cakes  upon  the 
top ;  the  inscription  runs,  "genius  huius  loci  montis." 
When  Aeneas  was  sacrificing  at  his  father's  tomb  a 

1  Rdm.  Myth.  i.  85.  2  ad  Att.  IV.  i.  4. 


THE  SOUL  AND   ITS   COMPANIONS        59 

like  experience  befel  him ;  he  was  uncertain,  how- 
ever, whether  the  creature  which  glided  among  his 
company  was  the  guardian  of  the  spot  or  the  familiar 
of  his  father.1 

Buildings  were  thought  to  have  their  genii  also ; 
houses,  theatres,  market-places,  and  the  like.  They 
watched  too  over  villages,  townships,  colonies, 
provinces.  "  Why,"  asks  Prudentius,  "  do  you  picture 
to  me  but  one  genius  of  Rome,  when  you  are 
accustomed  to  assign  its  genius  to  each  city  gate, 
each  dwelling,  each  public  bath,  each  stable,  and  to 
picture  many  thousands  of  such  beings  through 
every  part  of  the  city,  in  order  that  no  nook  or 
cranny  may  lack  its  protecting  shadow  ? "  2 

When  men  were  collected  together  into  military 
bodies,  their  union  was  thought  of  under  the  same 
shape.  Centuries,  squadrons  of  cavalry,  standard 
bearers,  have  their  genii.  The  gladiators  and  the 
artisans  generally,  such  as  the  paviours,  or  even  the 
scullions,  find  a  bond  of  union  in  their  worship  of  a 
guardian  spirit.8 

Thus  side  by  side  with  the  human  commonwealth, 
there  was  gathered  a  kindred  one  watching  over  it, 
and  sharing  in  its  joys  and  sorrows.  There  was  yet 
a  third  commonwealth  ;  the  Good  Spirits,  dii  manes, ' 
whose  home  was  underground.  That  we  may  the 
better  understand  the  beliefs  of  the  Romans  with 

1  Baumeister,  Dmkmakr,  592.     Virg.  Am.  v.  95. 

2  Contra  Symmachum,  ii.  444.  3  Wilm.  Indices. 


6o  THE   WORSHIP   OF   THE   ROMANS 

regard  to  the  dead,  let  us  glance  at  their  burial 
customs. 

They  committed  the  body  to  the  earth  originally ; 
burning  on  a  wood  pyre  being  of  later  introduction. 
"  To  me,"  says  Cicero,  "  that  kind  of  burial  seems 
the  most  ancient  which  Cyrus  employed,  according 
to  Xenophon.  In  it  the  body  is  returned  to  earth. 
We  are  told  too  that  King  Numa  was  buried  by  the 
same  rite  in  that  tomb  which  is  near  the  Altar  of  the 
Fountain,  and  it  is  well  known  that  the  clan  of  the 
Cornelii  have  used  this  mode  of  sepulture  down  to 
our  time."1  Servius  says  that  the  ancient  custom 
was  to  bury  the  dead  in  the  house.  Until  the  Twelve 
Tables,  the  Romans  were  at  any  rate  buried  in  the 
courtyard  of  the  house,  and,  down  to  late  times, 
children  who  died  before  the  fortieth  day,  were  laid 
in  a  niche  in  the  wall,  covered  by  a  projecting  roof 
or  eaves.2 

According  to  the  more  ancient  belief  the  soul  was 
laid  to  rest  with  the  body  in  the  grave ;  "  animam 
sepulcro  condintus"  says  Aeneas.  And  the  earth  was 
thought  to  be  the  actual  abode  of  the  manes.  "  We 
too,"  says  Horace  to  Torquatus,  "  shall  join  Tullus 
and  Ancus,"  those  kings  of  old,  and  Numa  by  the 
Altar  of  the  Fountain.  There  is  eternal  peace, 
eternal  sleep.3  There  was  an  opening  sacred  to  "  the 
shades  of  underground,"  in  the  Comitium  at  Rome. 

1  Legg.  ii.  56.  2  L.  &  S.  s.v.  Stiggrundarium. 

3  Acn.  iii.  67.     Hor.  Carm.  IV.  vii.  15.     Wilm.  249. 


THE  SOUL  AND   ITS   COMPANIONS        61 

This  was  kept  covered  by  a  stone,  lapis  manalis ; 
three  times  in  the  year,  August  24th,  October  5th, 
and  November  8th,  the  stone  was  removed,  and  the 
shades,  it  was  believed,  came  up  through  the  opening 
to  receive  the  fruits  and  cakes  that  were  presented 
to  them.  These  days  were  attended  with  complete 
cessation  from  work  of  all  kinds.  For  when  the 
mundus  was  open,  it  was  like  a  door  set  ajar  for  the 
gods  of  gloom  and  of  the  nether  world.  A  battle 
could  not  be  fought,  nor  a  levy  held,  nor  an  army 
start  forth,  nor  a  ship  set  sail,  nor  a  man  marry.1 
When  a  new  city  was  founded,  a  similar  pit  was  dug, 
into  which  each  of  the  settlers  cast  a  clod  of  his 
native  earth.  There  were  other  approaches  to  the 
nether  world.  The  most  famous  was  the  cave  of 
Avernus,  near  Naples.  It  opened  wide  upon  a 
gloomy  lake,  and  was  overshadowed  by  a  dark 
forest.  While  the  stone  of  the  manes  was  removed 
but  three  days  in  the  year,  these  portals  of  Dis  were 
not  closed  day  nor  night. 

Although  life  was  done  with  the  last  breath,  the 
body  was  regarded  as  having  magical  properties, 
which  could  be  called  forth  by  fitting  charms.  The 
Damaras,  like  the  ancient  Jews,  seem  to  have  no 
clear  anticipation  of  a  life  after  death,  yet  they  pray 
over  the  graves  of  their  parents  for  oxen  and  sheep.2 
It  was  a  like  belief  in  the  virtues  of  human  ashes 

1  Macr.  Sal.  I.  xvi.  18.     Plut.  Rom.  II. 

2  Galton,  Travels  in  S.  Africa,  c.  6. 


62  THE   WORSHIP   OF  THE   ROMANS 

which  led  the  Romans  to  scatter  in  the  city  the 
bones  of  a  general  who  had  celebrated  a  triumph.1 
This  belief,  passing  over  into  the  early  church,  made 
the  bodies  of  martyrs  objects  of  desire.  "  Wandering 
monks  sold  them  ;  a  law  of  Theodosius  forbad  them 
to  be  dug  up  and  removed  for  this  unholy  traffic."2 
It  is  interesting  to  trace  the  steps  by  which  the 
Romans  passed  from  the  idea  of  death  as  a  sleep, 
to  that  of  death  as  the  beginning  of  another  life. 
Perhaps  the  typical  conception  of  the  Romans  was 
that  the  shadow  lived  in  and  about  the  tomb,  and 
depended  upon  the  living  for  some  of  the  enjoy- 
ments which  gave  zest  to  the  bygone  years.  Hence 
the  tombs  of  the  dead  are  placed  along  the  highways. 
As  the  traveller  drew  near  to  the  great  city,  he  found 
the  last  stage  of  his  journey  to  be  traversed  amid 
a  street  of  tombs,  whether  he  came  to  Rome  by  the 
Flaminian  Road,  or  by  the  Appian.  It  was  the 
same  outside  the  Herculanean  Gate  of  Pompeii.  All 
the  way  the  inscriptions  appealed  to  him  for  his 
interest  and  sympathy.  "  Travellers  who  crown  me 
and  offer  me  flowers,"  says  Victor  Fabianus,  "may 
ye  find  the  gods  propitious."  B,  Those  who  were 
wealthy  left  lands  and  houses,  or  sums  of  money, 
in  order  that  this  care  for  their  remains  might  be 
ensured.  Flavius  Syntrophus  bequeathed  to  his 
freedman  gardens,  a  house,  and  a  vineyard,  on  con- 
dition that  the  produce  should  be  divided  solemnly 

1  Plut.  Rom.  Qu.  79.       2  Moller,  Hist.  Chr.  C.  505.       3  Wilm.  252. 


THE  SOUL  AND   ITS   COMPANIONS        63 

in  his  honour  upon  the  Feast  of  the  Dead,  upon 

the  Day  of  Violets,  upon  the  Day  of  Roses,  and 

upon  his  birthday.     The  violets  included  the  stock 

and  the  wallflower.    "  I  was  talking  with  a  gardener," 

writes   the   author  of   Verdant   Gree?i,  "and  saying 

something   about   the   sweetness  of  the  gillyflower, 

when  the  man  observed,  '  It  *s  a  pity  it  smells  like 

death/     He  did  not  know  exactly  what  was  meant, 

but  it  was  an   old  saying."1     Such  a  belief  might 

have   lingered   from   the  use  of  the   flower  on  the 

Day  of  Violets,  dies  violationis.     A  little  child  asks 

its  playfellows  to  gather  round  its  grave,  bringing 

cups  of  wine,  and  to  pray  that  the  earth  might  lie 

light  upon  her.     This,  at  least,  any  passer-by  might 

say  for  the  comfort  of  the  dead.     Here  and  there 

we  find  a  more  defiant  note,  echoing  the  words  of 

Horace : 

"Blest  is  the  man  who  dares  to  say, 
'  Lord  of  myself,  I  've  lived  to-day.' " 

A  certain  Clodius  says  from  his  epitaph,  in  the 
spirit  of  Sardanapalus, 

"While  I  lived,  I  lived  like  a  gentleman. 
What  I  ate  and  drank  alone  is  mine."3 

But  this  defiance  of  death  as  the  destroyer  is  unusual, 
and  throws  into  higher  relief  the  yearning  for  con- 
tinued existence,  however  faint  and  shadowy. 

1  Wilm.   313.     Mayor  on  Jtiv.   xii.    90.     Gentleman's   Magazine, 
"Superstitious  Customs  and  Beliefs,"  206. 

2  Wilm.  569,  576. 


64  THE   WORSHIP   OF   THE   ROMANS 

There  was  a  practical  reason  why  the  needs  of 
the  dead  should  be  satisfied.  If  they  were  not  fed, 
they  became  spectres.  This  seems  to  be  the  meaning 
of  the  funeral  feast,  and  the  feasts  of  the  dead. 
The  burial  rites  of  the  Hindus  are  celebrated  for 
ten  days  after  death,  and  have  for  their  object  the 
feeding  of  the  spirit,  or,  as  the  later  philosophers 
said,  the  furnishing  of  it  with  a  new  body  for  its 
progress  onwards  into  other  existences.  It  thus 
becomes  a  "deva" — compare  the  phrase  dii  manes 
— instead  of  an  unclean  spirit,  as  it  would  be  on  their 
omission.1  When  the  bones  began  to  appear  in  the 
body,  as  it  burnt  on  the  pyre,  the  Romans  said  that 
the  deceased  had  become  a  god.  This  may  show 
us  why  the  feast  on  the  ninth  day  after  death  was 
so  sacred  at  Rome,  that  even  the  cattle  were  not 
put  to  their  wonted  tasks,  and  the  legionary  was 
given  leave  of  absence,  that  he  might  attend  it.2 
The  gladiatorial  games  which  were  given  at  the 
funerals  of  Roman  nobles  were,  perhaps,  a  relic  of 
the  slaughtering  of  human  beings,  in  order  to  provide 
the  dead  with  their  blood.  Homer  has  preserved 
traces  of  this  savage  conception.  The  shades  come 
to  drink  the  blood  of  Odysseus'  sacrifice,  that  their 
life  may  be  renewed  for  a  time,  and  with  it,  under- 
standing.3 

The   lying   in    state,    which    lasted   originally   for 

1  Plut.  R.  Q.  14.     M.  Williams'  Hinduism,  66. 

2  Preller,  Rom.  Myth.  ii.  97.  3  Odyss.  xi.  153. 


THE   SOUL  AND   ITS   COMPANIONS         65 

seven  days,  thus  occupied  the  interval  in  which  the 
new  body  was  being  prepared.  Only  then  might 
the  earthly  one  be  committed  to  the  flames.  On 
the  day  appointed  the  funeral  train  wended  its  way 
to  the  forum,  and  the  body  of  the  deceased  was 
made  to  stand  upon  the  tribunal,  that  it  might  be 
visible  to  all.  The  citizens  stood  round  in  a  great 
circle,  while  the  son,  or,  failing  him,  the  next  kinsman, 
stepped  forward  and  recounted  the  praises  of  the 
dead.  But  the  ancestors  of  the  house  also  come 
forth  to  receive  the  last  "  admired  guest."  The  life 
masks  are  brought  out  from  the  atrium,  and  men 
are  chosen  who  are  thought  to  resemble  the  former 
heads  of  the  house  in  stature  and  bearing.  They 
take  part  in  the  funeral  procession,  wearing  the 
insignia  of  those  whom  they  represent  —  censors, 
consuls,  or  praetors — and  they  join  the  company 
in  the  forum,  seating  themselves  upon  the  ivory 
chairs  of  the  magistrates  in  the  order  of  their  pre- 
cedence. When  all  is  done,  the  mask  of  the  deceased 
is  put  along  with  the  others,  and  looks  out  upon  the 
family  life  from  the  little  wooden  shrine.1 

Not  merely  in  symbol  then,  but  in  full  reality,  the 
ancestors  of  the  Roman  lived  under  the  blackened 
rafters  of  his  home.  His  thoughts  turned  from  time 
to  time  to  the  reception  which  awaited  him  at  their 
hands,  when  he  should  become  the  leading  figure 
in  the  ghostly  procession  to  the  forum.     Hence  the 

1  Polyb.  vi.  53. 
E 


66         THE   WORSHIP   OF  THE   ROMANS 

anxiety  which  oppressed  him  in  observing  the  custom 
of  the  elders,  mos  maiorum — those  precepts  of  which 
the  discovery  and  establishment  seemed  inspired  of 
God— that  he  might  render  to  them  a  faithful  account 
of  his  stewardship.  For  they  resented  the  coming 
of  persons  who  had  committed  sacrilege,  or  whose 
lives  had  been  otherwise  stained  with  crime.  When 
Tiberius  died,  some  of  the  people  prayed  to  Mother 
Earth  and  the  manes  that  he  should  be  refused  a 
place  among  them,  and  be  sent  to  join  the  damned.1 
The  books  of  the  pontiffs  forbade  burial  to  those 
who  had  put  an  end  to  their  lives  by  hanging.  Thus 
they  were  left  tossing  between  death  and  life,  coming 
abroad  at  night  in  their  restlessness  as  spectres. 
They  had  no  part  in  the  upper  air,  much  as  they 
longed  to  return  to  the  life  they  had  vainly  cast 
away ;  and  the  "  good  spirits "  refused  to  receive 
them.  "At  a  place  called  Four  Mile  Water,  in 
Wexford,"  says  Mr.  Yeats,  "there  is  an  old  grave- 
yard full  of  saints.  Once  it  was  on  the  other  side 
of  the  river ;  but  they  buried  a  rogue  there,  and  the 
whole  graveyard  moved  across  in  the  night,  leaving 
the  rogue-corpse  in  solitude."  It  would  have  been 
easier,  seemingly,  to  move  merely  the  rogue-corpse, 
but  perhaps  his  touch  would  have  been  a  pollution.2 
The  solemn  funeral  of  the  noble  Roman,  and  the 

1  Cic.  de  do  mo  sua,  I.     Suet.  75. 

2  Serv.  ad  Aen.  xii.  603;   Aen.  vi.  436.     Irish  Fairy  Tales,  214. 
Religion  authorised  by  mos  maiorum,  Cic.  harusp.  res.  18. 


THE  SOUL  AND   ITS   COMPANIONS        67 

gathering  of  his  ancestors  to  receive  him,  made  his 
welcome  certain  amid  the  ghostly  company. 

The  first  attitude  of  primitive  man  to  his  dead 
seems  to  have  been  one  of  almost  unmixed  terror. 
Hence  his  care  to  employ  every  means  by  which  they 
might  be  laid  to  rest.  The  Damaras  sew  up  their 
dead  in  bags,  and  jump  backwards  and  forwards  over 
the  grave,  "  in  order,"  says  Mr.  Galton,  "  to  keep  the 
disease  from  rising  out  of  it," *  more  probably  to  pre- 
vent the  spirit  of  the  dead  from  rising  and  bringing 
the  disease.  So  at  Rome  the  restless  spirits  of  the 
dead  wander  about  by  night,  causing  men  to  pine 
away,  or  bewitching  them  into  madness.  The  expla- 
nation of  death  which  commended  itself  to  the 
Roman  was  that  the  life  or  soul  had  been  enticed 
away  by  the  ghosts.  "  The  Indians  of  the  Amazon," 
says  Wallace,  "  scarcely  seem  to  think  that  death  can 
occur  naturally,  always  imputing  it  to  direct  poisoning, 
or  to  the  charms  of  some  enemy,  and  on  this  suppo- 
sition will  proceed  to  avenge  it."  Death,  then,  is 
unnatural,  and  would  never  occur,  so  the  Romans 
seem  to  have  thought,  except  by  accident,  or  the 
interference  of  some  evil  spirit. 

An  ancient  ritual  prescribed  for  the  Feast  of 
Spectres,  Lemuria,  at  the  middle  of  May,  is  directed 
manifestly  to  releasing  the  souls  of  the  household 
from  the  power  of  the  ghosts.  "  In  the  depth  of 
night,"  says  Ovid,  "  when  quietness  is  given  for  sleep, 

1   Travels  in  S.  Africa,  c.  6. 


68         THE  WORSHIP   OF  THE   ROMANS 

when  we  hear  no  more  the  baying  of  the  dogs  nor 
the  cry  of  the  birds,  the  man  who  is  faithful  to  the 
rites  of  old,  and  fears  the  gods,  rises  from  his  couch. 
He  is  barefoot.  Lest  the  unsubstantial  shadow  should 
steal  upon  him,  he  snaps  his  fingers.  Thrice  he 
washes  his  hands  from  all  stain  in  spring  water.  He 
turns  and  takes  the  black  beans  in  his  mouth.  Then 
he  casts  them  over  his  shoulder,  and  while  he  does 
this  he  says  :  '  These  I  offer ;  with  these  beans  I 
redeem  myself  and  my  house.'  So  he  speaks  nine 
times,  and  does  not  look  behind  him.  The  shadow 
is  thought  to  pick  up  the  beans  and  to  follow  unseen. 
Again  he  touches  the  water,  and  rattles  the  copper 
from  the  mine,  and  he  implores  the  shadow  to  go 
forth  from  his  roof.  After  saying  nine  times,  ■  Come 
forth,  spirits  of  my  fathers,'  he  looks  back,  and 
accounts  the  rite  duly  performed."1 

Here  we  have  in  a  brief  compass  the  main  outlines 
of  the  Roman  belief  in  spirits,  and  we  see  that  fear 
was  the  prevailing  sentiment,  even  towards  those  of 
their  ancestors.  From  all  time  the  hours  of  darkness 
have  been  the  heyday  of  the  ghosts.  "At  night," 
they  say,  "  we  wander  far  and  wide,  for  night  frees 
the  shadows  from  their  prison.  Our  laws  bid  us 
return  to  the  Lake  of  Forgetfulness  at  daybreak."  2 
While  they  are  abroad  the  soul  of  the  passer-by  is 

1  Ovid,  Fasti,  v.  429  ff.     Nothing  might  be  done  when  spirits  were 
abroad.     L.  &  S.  s.v.  iustitium. 

2  Tropert.  V.  vii.  89. 


THE   SOUL  AND   ITS   COMPANIONS        69 

under  great  risks.  The  midnight  celebrant  snaps  his 
ringers  in  order  to  protect  his  soul  from  their  entice- 
ments. According  to  Mr.  Pratapa-candra  Ghosha, 
immunity  from  evil  spirits  is  secured  by  snapping  the 
fingers  towards  ten  different  directions.1  When,  there- 
fore, the  Roman  sought  to  secure  rest  for  the  souls  of 
the  dead,  it  was  that  he  might  be  preserved  from  the 
perils  they  brought  in  their  wanderings.  "  Once  upon 
a  time,"  says  Ovid,  "  the  great  feast  of  the  dead  was 
not  observed,  and  the  manes  failed  to  receive  the 
customary  gifts,  the  fruit,  the  salt,  the  corn  steeped 
in  unmixed  wine,  the  violets.  The  injured  spirits 
revenged  themselves  on  the  living,  and  the  city  was 
encircled  with  the  funeral  fires  of  their  victims.  The 
townsfolk  heard  their  grandsires  complaining  in  the 
quiet  hours  of  the  night,  and  told  each  other  how  the 
unsubstantial  troop  of  monstrous  spectres  rising  from 
their  tombs,  shrieked  along  the  city  streets,  and  up 
and  down  the  fields."  2 

Pliny  says  that  the  beans  are  used  in  making  sacri- 
fices to  the  dead,  parentando,  because  the  souls  of  the 
dead  are  in  them.  In  the  rite  described  by  Ovid, 
they  are  given  in  the  place  of  the  living,  while  the 
sorceress,  mumbling  her  incantations,  takes  beans  in 
her  mouth  that  she  may  work  upon  the  souls  of  her 
victims.3    These  beliefs  are  connected  in  part  with 

1  Hinduism,  132. 

2  Fasti,  ii.  549~554- 

3  Pliny,  N.  H.  xviii.  118-119.    Ovid,  Fasti,  ii.  576. 


7o         THE  WORSHIP   OF  THE  ROMANS 

the  form  of  the  bean-flower :  Varro  tells  us  that  cha- 
racters of  mourning,  litterae  lugubres,  are  found  upon 
them,  "  like  to  that  sanguine  flower  inscribed  with 
woe."  As  the  Roman  saw  a  field  of  beans  in  bloom, 
he  would  imagine  the  souls  of  the  dead  to  be  passing 
into  them.  Hence  the  dreams  which  followed  upon 
eating  beans,  a  dream  consisting  sometimes  in  the 
visit  of  other  souls  to  our  own.  Since  the  beans  con- 
tain the  souls  of  the  dead,  "  it  seems  probable,"  as 
Mr.  Jevons  remarks,  "  that  the  object  of  eating  beans 
at  funeral  banquets  was  to  convey  the  powers  of  the 
deceased  to  his  kinsmen."  This  explains  further  why 
beans  were  thought  to  be  a  strengthening  food.1  The 
Flamen  Dialis  "never  stepped  upon  a  tomb  nor 
touched  a  corpse."  Whatever  risks  he  ran  then  were 
repeated  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  bean  ;  hence  he 
was  forbidden  to  eat  of  it,  or  even  to  name  it.2 

It  is  important,  evidently,  that  the  spirits  of  the 
deceased  ancestors  should  not  be  seen ;  they  are 
always  eager  to  gain  over  new  recruits  for  their 
mystic  community.  This  danger  seems  to  have 
begun  from  the  moment  of  death.  The  Roman  who 
put  the  torch  to  the  funeral  pyre  of  his  kinsman  did 
so  with  averted  eyes.3  Thus,  whether  he  performed 
the  last  offices  for  the  deceased,  or  went  out  at  mid- 
night to  charm  the  souls  of  his  ancestors  forth  from 


1  Rom.  Qu.  pref.  92.    Macr.  Sat,  1.  xii.  33. 

2  Gell.  N.  A.  x.  15. 

3  Virg.  Aen.  vi.  224. 


THE  SOUL  AND   ITS   COMPANIONS        71 

the  dwelling,  he  avoided  looking  upon  them.     The 
ghosts,  in  their  turn,  did  not  appear  when  they  were 
likely  to  be  seen  by  many  ;  they  came  abroad  usually 
at  night,  but  sometimes  the  loneliness  of  the  streets 
tempted  them,  when  every  one  was  indoors  taking  a 
siesta.     Under  the  throbbing   glare  of  the  midday 
sun  the  "pale  phantoms"  flitted  across  the  market 
places  and  the   open   roads.     In   fact,   they   shrank 
from  being  seen  about  almost  as  much  as  the  living 
from  seeing  them.     "  Upon  the  eve  of  the  festival  of 
St.  Ives  in  Treguier,"  says   M.  Renan,  "the  people 
assembled  in  the  church,  and  on  the  stroke  of  mid- 
night the  saint  stretched  out  his  arms  to  bless  the 
kneeling  congregation.     But  if  among  them  all  there 
was  one  doubting  soul,  who  raised  his  eyes  to  see  if 
the  miracle  really  did  take  place,  the  saint,  taking 
just  offence  at  such  a  suspicion,  did  not  move."     The 
danger  of  seeing  a  spirit  came  to  be  explained  as  due 
to  his  displeasure,   not  to   the   actual   effect  of  the 
vision. 

When  the  custom  prevailed  of  burning  the  body, 
the  thought  upon  which  the  beliefs  just  described 
depend,  namely,  that  the  man's  self  did  not  perish 
altogether,  was  set  in  sharp  relief.  The  handful  of 
ashes  surely  could  not  stand  for  the  whole  being  of 
the  friend  committed  to  the  flames.  "The  good 
spirits  live,  indeed,"  cries  Propertius ;  "  death  is  not 
the  end;  the  wan  shade  escapes  from  the  dying 
embers."     "  The  earth  holds  my  body,"  says  a  slave, 


72  THE   WORSHIP   OF   THE   ROMANS 

"  the  stone  my  name ;  my  breath  has  gone  into  the 
air."  So  too  the  life  of  Dido  "  passed  away  into  the 
winds."  After  the  funeral  of  Augustus,  a  man  of 
praetorian  rank  swore  that  he  had  seen  the  form  of 
the  prince  on  its  way  to  heaven.1  The  same  thought, 
developed  under  the  influence  of  the  later  Greek 
philosophy,  takes  a  noble  expression  in  the  poetry  of 
Lucan.     The  death  of  Pompey  is  being  recounted  : 

"His  spirit  could  not  rest  in  the  glowing  embers, 
nor  scanty  ashes  contain  that  mighty  shade.  He 
sprang  forth  from  the  fires,  and  leaving  the  body 
beneath,  which  they  had  but  half  devoured,  and  the 
lowly  pyre,  he  rose  to  the  sphere  of  heaven.  Where 
the  dark  air  is  joined  to  the  poles  that  bear  the  stars 
— the  space  that  lies  between  the  earth  and  the 
journeyings  of  the  moon — there  dwell  those  spirits 
almost  divine,  whose  burning  virtue  kept  them  pure 
in  life,  prepared  them  for  the  lowest  shores  of  aether, 
and  brought  them  to  the  everlasting  spheres.  Not 
by  fragrant  spices  on  the  pyre,  nor  by  much  gold,  can 
man  come  thither!  When  he  had  filled  his  soul 
with  the  true  light,  gazing  with  awe  upon  the  planets 
and  the  stars  of  the  firmament,  he  looked  upon  the 
night  in  which  our  days  are  spent,  and  laughed  at 
the  insult  done  to  his  body."2 

Philosophy,  however,  was  well-nigh  confined  to  a 
few.     Often  it  is  the  blending  of  Greek  folklore  with 

1  Frop.  V.  vii.  I.     Wilm.  598.     Aen.  iv.  705.     Suet.  Aug.  100. 

2  rharsal.  ix.  1-14. 


THE  SOUL  AND   ITS   COMPANIONS        73 

Roman  that  is  found  to  have  passed  from  the  poets 
to  common  life.  "The  shadow  has  left  the  body, 
and  makes  its  way  to  Dis  below,"  says  one.  "  Now 
I  am  given  to  the  house  of  Dis,"  laments  another, 
"and  there  I  shall  remain  for  long  ages,  brought 
thither  by  the  flames  of  death  and  by  the  Stygian 
river."1  Only  one  or  two  could  rise,  like  Pompey, 
triumphant  over  death;  for  the  most  part  the 
Romans  held  with  Maecenas,  and  preferred  earthly 
life,  even  at  its  worst,  to  the  shadows  of  the  under 
world.  The  melancholy  that  breathes  through  these 
epitaphs  is  summed  up  in  the  words  of  the  great 
minister  of  Augustus.2 

"  Though  I  lose  strength  from  hand  and  foot  and  hip  ; 
Though  my  form  be  bent,  and  the  teeth  be  shaken  from  my 
gums, 
While  life  remains  't  is  well. 
Let  me  live  on,  though  I  were  fixed  to  the  sharp  cross." 

USQUE  ADEONE  MORI   MISERUM   EST? 

1  Wilm.  580;   560. 
3  Qu.  Seneca,  Ep.  101. 


THE   WORLD   AROUND 

T  F  we  wished  to  understand  the  great  superiority 
-L  of  the  Greek  imagination  over  the  Roman,  we 
could  not  do  better,  perhaps,  than  turn  to  the  idea 
the  early  Roman  had  of  the  world  in  which  he  lived. 
For  evidence  we  are  confined  to  his  language.  The 
figures  of  his  mythology  seem  to  have  been  only 
abstractions  fixed  for  ever  in  some  one  act  or  function, 
and  were  never  built  up  into  an  orderly  procession, 
such  as  that  which  Hesiod  unrolls  before  us  in  his 
Theogony.  He  seems  to  have  regarded  the  earth  as 
a  circle,  orbis,  of  which  the  sun  makes  the  circuit, 
annus.  The  journey  of  the  sun  is  toilsome  and  he 
flags  sometimes.  In  this  he  is  imitated  by  the 
luminary,  lima,  of  the  night.  The  Romans  observed 
the  evening  and  the  morning  star,  and  thought  that 
there  were  seven  ploughing  oxen  who  continued 
round  the  pole  that  agriculture  which  was  his 
business  on  the  plains  of  Latium.  Thus  shadowy  was 
the  reflection  which  his  soul  caught  from  the  majestic 
pomp  of  nature.  For  him  the  world  was  unrealized. 
I?i  vain  through  every  changeful  year  did  Nature  lead 
him.      He  could  be  aroused  from  his   unregarding 


THE  WORLD   AROUND  75 

mood  by  terror  alone.  It  would  almost  seem  as  if 
the  purity  of  vision  which  is  needed  that  we  may 
contemplate  natural  beauty,  can  be  attained  only 
when  the  mind  has  been  purged  of  some  of  its 
dross.  The  miracles  and  portents  of  which  Roman 
history  is  full  were  preparing  the  way,  by  the  alarm 
they  occasioned,  for  a  more  wholesome  outlook  upon 
the  world. 

In  trying  to  imagine  how  the  Roman  thought  and 
felt  we  must  allow  due  importance  to  the  constant 
apprehension  of  danger.  He  was  beset  on  all  sides 
by  imaginary  foes.  The  restless  spirits  of  the  dead, 
the  evil  eye  of  the  living,  threatened  him  and  his. 
And  the  actual  harm  that  overtook  him  was  but 
an  instalment  of  that  against  which  he  had  to  guard. 
Lucretius  personifies  this  dread  as  religion  towering 
to  the  clouds  and  trampling  upon  mankind.  But 
the  alarms  of  which  he  speaks  found  their  expression 
rather  than  their  cause  in  religious  beliefs.  A  later 
poet  is  more  just  to  religion.  There  is  one  kind  of 
happiness,  Virgil  tell  us,  which  comes  when  increasing 
knowledge  has  dispelled  every  terror,  and  the  dread 
of  the  future,  and  the  deafening  roar  of  the  River 
of  Death.  Yet  there  is  a  happiness  sweeter  still 
when  Nature  retains  some  of  its  mystery,  and  we 
come  to  know  "the  gods  of  the  country  side." 
Although  the  records  of  the  pontiffs,  with  their 
tales  of  miracles  and  prodigies,  stood  in  close 
relation  to  the  main  current  of  religious   belief  at 


76  THE   WORSHIP   OF   THE   ROMANS 

Rome,  there  was  something  in  these  occurrences 
which  appeared  abnormal  to  the  Roman.  It  was 
his  settled  wish  to  obtain  and  to  live  in  "  the  peace 
of  the  gods  " ;  pax  deum,  to  use  the  beautiful  phrase 
of  ritual.  The  events  of  which  Livy  records  so 
many  were  therefore  to  be  regarded  as  somewhat 
exceptional,  and  it  would  be  a  mistake  to  suppose 
that  the  fashion  in  which  the  old  Roman  viewed  the 
world  was  always  as  distorted  as  might  appear  from 
such  narratives.  We  must  be  careful  not  to  ascribe 
to  him  a  scientific  temper,  however.  It  might  be 
maintained  that  the  course  of  Nature  presented  itself 
then  as  a  succession  of  events  without  internal 
connection,  just  as,  nowadays,  some  people  see  in 
every  occurrence  an  interference  of  Providence.1 

The  clear  Italian  sky  was  not  always  without  a 
stain  to  break  upon  its  deep  blue  colour;  nor  did 
the  sun  shine  always  with  unchanged  clearness. 
Sometimes  it  turned  to  blood,  or  two  and  even 
three  suns  were  seen  together.  Once  at  Frosinone 
a  halo  appeared  round  the  sun,  and  then  the  orb 
grew  until  it  embraced  the  halo.  When  the  young 
Octavius  entered  Rome  after  the  assassination  of 
Caesar,  a  like  circle  of  light  was  observed.  At  Atri 
an  altar  was  seen  in  the  heaven  and  phantoms  of 
men  stood  round  it  in  white  robes :  forms  uncouth 
of  mightiest  power  for  admiration   and   mysterious 

1  Most  of  the  events  referred  to  here  are  recorded  in  Livy.     See  the 
indices  of  Weissenborn  (Teubner). 


THE   WORLD   AROUND  77 

zwe.  A  great  fleet  of  ships,  again,  was  seen 
Dverhead  at  Civita  Lavigna,  and  in  Rome  a  mirage 
Df  vessels  appeared  to  blaze  in  the  sky.  Many- 
declared,  on  another  occasion,  that  they  saw  legions 
Df  soldiers  upon  the  hills  across  the  Tiber.  The 
:itizens  rushed  to  arms.  But  those  who  were  on 
:he  spot  said  that  no  one  had  been  there  except 
:he  men  who  cultivated  the  soil.  A  short  time 
Defore  the  civil  wars  the  gods  were  observed  to  be 
n  conflict  upon  the  plains  of  Campania.  At  first 
oud  noises  were  heard,  and  soon  the  news  came 
rrom  all  sides  that  two  lines  of  combatants  had 
Deen  fighting  for  some  days.  After  the  battle  the 
:racks  of  foot  soldiers  and  of  cavalry  were  visible 
Dver  all  the  ground.  "On  the  day  of  the  battle 
^f  Bothwell  Brig,  Mr.  Cameron,  minister  of  Lochend 
n  Kintyre,  had  a  clairvoyant  view  of  the  fight. 
I  see  them  (the  Whigs)  flying  as  clearly  as  I 
;ee  the  wall/  he  said  ;  and  as  nearly  as  could  be 
:alculated  the  Covenanters  ran  at  that  very  moment." 
Nor  have  modern  and  enlightened  times  been  with- 
out wonders  of  the  other  kind.  On  August  1st,  1657, 
Ambrose  Rhodes,  professor  of  natural  philosophy 
it  Christiania,  observed  a  fine  aurora  borealis,  and 
Drophesied  therefrom  the  political  changes  which 
:00k  place  in  Denmark  three  years  later.  We  have 
:his  from  Pontoppidan,  Bishop  of  Bergen,  who  is  the 
:hief  authority  upon  the  sea  serpent. 
The  destruction  caused  by  lightning  seems  to  have 


78         THE  WORSHIP   OF  THE   ROMANS 

been  regarded  always  as  possessed  of  special  mean- 
ing, and  accounts  for  a  large  proportion  of  the 
prodigies  recorded  by  Livy.  Many  of  the  details 
in  the  worship  of  Jupiter  have  reference  to  his 
character  as  the  god  of  lightning.  It  may  have 
been  a  certain  resemblance  to  lightning  that  caused 
other  appearances  to  attract  attention.  At  Sezza, 
in  the  Pomptine  marshes,  a  torch  was  waved  from 
one  end  of  the  heavens  to  the  other.  At  Anagni, 
flames  were  scattered  over  the  heavens,  and  then 
drawn  together  into  one  mighty  torch.  At  Falerii, 
the  heavens  opened,  and  a  mighty  light  blazed  forth 
from  their  depths.  In  contrast  to  these  bright  appear- 
ances, night  sometimes  settled  over  the  land  at 
midday. 

Sometimes  the  sense  of  hearing  was  the  vehicle 
of  these  portents.  Strange  voices  were  heard  pro- 
ceeding from  woods  and  groves  in  the  silence  of 
the  night.  Amid  the  mountains,  utterances  seemed 
to  come  from  heaven,  and  they  could  at  times  be 
interpreted  into  a  demand  for  certain  acts  of  worship. 
Before  the  Gauls  came,  a  poor  Roman,  as  he  walked 
down  the  New  Road,  heard  a  voice  louder  than  that 
of  man,  bidding  him  warn  the  magistrates  that  the 
Gauls  were  at  hand,  and  that  the  walls  and  gates 
ought  to  be  repaired.  When  the  Latins  were  setting 
fire  to  Casale  di  Conca,  and  approached  the  temple 
of  the  goddess  Matuta,  an  appalling  cry  came  from 
the  sacred  precincts,  and,  with  threats,  commanded 


THE  WORLD  AROUND  79 

hem  to  remove  their  torches.  While  it  was  a 
requent  occurrence  for  dreadful  sounds  to  be 
eported  from  Juno's  temple  at  Civita  Lavigna. 

Roman  curiosity  was  excited,  and  sometimes  alarm 
vas  aroused,  by  the  behaviour  of  animals  in  their 
lifferent  kinds.  No  one  need  mistake  the  interest 
>f  Virgil  in  the  life  of  insects.  We  find  many 
tories  relating  to  their  prophetic  instincts.  Cicero 
ells  us  that  if  a  swarm  of  bees  should  settle  upon 
he  stage  or  the  seats  at  the  games,  the  haruspices 
yould  have  to  be  summoned.  The  actions  of  animals 
ised  in  the  solemn  sacrifices  were  carefully  watched. 
\ny  sign  of  willingness  or  shrinking  was  an  omen 
or  good  or  bad.  It  is  solemnly  recorded  that  an  ox 
•nee  went  upstairs  in  a  house  in  the  Roman  cattle 
narket — "of  its  own  accord,"  says  the  chronicler — 
.nd,  alarmed  by  the  noise  of  the  occupants,  threw 
tself  down,  presumably  by  the  window.  In  another 
[uarter  of  Rome,  the  Keels,  two  tame  cattle  went 
ipstairs  and  out  upon  the  tiles.  When  the  precious 
netals  of  the  temple  treasuries  were  carried  off  by 
avens  or  by  mice,  it  was  thought  that  these  creatures 
yere  changing  their  diet ! 

The  mysterious  life  of  trees  seemed,  as  we  have 
.lready  seen,  to  be  bound  up  in  some  way  with  that 
>f  mankind  ;  we  shall  see  in  the  sequel  how  this 
>elief  gave  rise  to  numerous  rites  and  feasts.  How 
wonderful  it  must  have  seemed  when  green  wood 
aught  fire  in  Apulia,  or  when  laurels  grew  up  from 


So  THE   WORSHIP   OF   THE   ROMANS 

the  deck  of  a  man-of-war!  Even  when  the  wood 
was  cut  off  from  its  parent  stock,  it  retained  strange 
virtues ;  as  a  horseman  went  his  round  along  a 
rampart,  the  staff  in  his  hand  blazed  forth. 

It  is  comprehensible  that  the  objects  which  were 
stored  in  the  shrines  of  the  gods,  should  catch  some- 
thing of  their  presence.  The  spear  of  Mars  was 
distinguished  for  its  liveliness.  But  more  cumbrous 
objects  still  had  power  of  motion,  and  these  not 
always  of  a  sacred  character.  At  Rieti,  a  rock 
was  seen  to  flutter,  volitare.  But  this  is  matched 
by  an  occurrence  reported  from  Spraiton  in  1682, 
"A  barrel  of  salt,  of  considerable  quantity,  hath 
been  observed  to  march  from  room  to  room  with- 
out any  human  assistance." l 

The  importance  of  blood  in  ancient  ritual  is  so 
great,  that  we  are  not  surprised  to  find  that  the 
excited  imagination  detected  its  presence  under 
strange  conditions.  In  times  of  terror  it  seemed 
to  be  over  everything.  The  rivers  flowed  with  it, 
and  the  fountains.  Sometimes  it  would  rain  blood 
for  two  days  together.  Lakes  turned  into  blood. 
It  flowed  even  from  the  family  hearth ;  this  un- 
pleasant experience  befell  a  Roman  citizen  for  two 
days  and  nights.  In  the  grove  of  Feronia  for  a 
day  and  a  night,  four  statues  sweated  blood.  Even 
the  corn  turns  to  blood.  When  it  is  not  raining 
blood,  it  rains  stones,  or  chalk,  or  milk,  or  even  flesh. 


THE   WORLD   AROUND  81 

To  tell  the  truth,  the  superstitious  fancy  is  often 
diseased.  We  cannot  breathe  in  its  atmosphere, 
and  turn  with  a  long  breath  of  relief  to  the  fresh 
air  of  wholesome  and  regular  life.  Roman  imagi- 
nation, when  it  was  excited,  looked  out  upon  the 
visions  of  the  madhouse;  we  do  not  catch  many 
glimpses  of  magic  casements  opening  on  the  foam 
of  perilous  seas. 

Occurrences  like  these  presented  little  difficulty 
to  the  general  mind  at  Rome.  They  were  tokens 
sent  by  the  gods  or  other  spirits,  which  should 
warn  of  impending  dangers,  or  of  the  displeasure 
of  these  unseen  powers.  In  this  way  they  were 
brought  into  relation  with  that  spirit  world,  amid 
which  the  Roman  lived  and  died.  We  must  not 
separate  these  two  groups  of  beliefs.  When  every 
event  which  passed  human  comprehension,  was 
referred  to  the  action  of  some  particular  spirit, 
the  beliefs  in  such  existences  attained  a  strength 
which  now  we  can  scarcely  realise.  It  is  only  too 
easy  to  assume  that,  because  with  our  knowledge, 
we  could  not  believe  in  the  ancient  mythology,  it 
must  have  seemed  equally  incredible  to  those  who 
had  scarcely  attained  any  scientific  conceptions.  On 
the  other  hand  we  may  wonder  with  more  reason 
that  ancient  thinkers  were  able  to  free  themselves 
from  beliefs  which  seem  to  have  entered  into  the 
very  fibres  of  their  mental  constitution. 

We  are  not  concerned   merely  with  the  state  of 
F 


82  THE   WORSHIP   OF  THE   ROMANS 

mind  to  which  these  things  seemed  possible.  There 
is  another  question,  did  they  occur  at  all  ?  It  is  easy 
to  dismiss  them  as  incredible.  Yet,  as  Tubero  re- 
marks in  the  Republic  of  Cicero,  the  witnesses  are 
too  numerous  and  weighty  to  be  disbelieved,  and 
we  are  compelled  to  seek  the  meaning  of  these 
occurrences.  We  can  put  down  something  to  the 
natural  tendency  of  a  story  to  grow.  Then,  again, 
we  may  suppose  that  some  accounts  were  inventions 
from  the  beginning.  Still  we  ought  not  to  rest  satis- 
fied with  these  prejudices  against  the  testimony  of 
the  pontifical  records. 

Another  objection  that  may  be  brought  with 
damaging  effect  against  reports  from  uneducated  or 
undisciplined  witnesses,  is  this ;  How  far  are  we 
justified  in  assuming  that  they  were  enabled  to 
report  with  accuracy  what  they  saw  and  heard  ? 
When  it  is  remembered  that  observations,  in  the 
scientific  sense  of  the  word,  have  only  begun  to  be 
taken  since  a  quite  recent  date,  we  shall  estimate 
more  correctly  the  assertions  of  persons  to  whom  the 
very  idea  of  accuracy  must  have  been  altogether 
strange. 

It  is  instructive  to  apply  these  tests  to  the  records 
of  Livy.  We  might  have  expected  beforehand  that 
the  wonders — miracles  in  the  strict  sense  of  the 
word — which  he  recounts,  would  have  been  of  a 
more  or  less  fantastic  and  seemingly  impossible 
character.     Nothing  of  the  kind.     They  are  nearly 


THE   WORLD   AROUND  83 

all  of  them  credible  and  possible.  Even  the  stories 
about  the  appearance  of  the  blood  admit  of  explan- 
ation. 

The  chief  characteristic  of  these  stories  in  the 
eyes  of  a  modern  is  that  they  should  have  been 
regarded  as  wonderful  at  all,  as  indicating  some 
special  movement  among  the  spirits.  How  are  we 
to  explain  this  ?  In  the  first  place,  the  Roman 
Government  seems  always  to  have  exercised  a  very 
strict  censorship  upon  the  growth  of  miraculous 
reports.  The  witness  of  a  strange  event  shrank 
from  reporting  it.  For  he  ran  the  risk  of  being 
imprisoned  as  a  meddler  in  state  matters. 

In  the  second  place,  the  legal  genius  of  the 
Roman  nation  provided  in  its  courts  of  justice  a 
school  of  evidence,  which  was  only  second,  in  the 
discipline  it  afforded,  to  modern  scientific  procedure. 
To  hear  what  might  be  said  on  this  side  and  that, 
and  then  to  test  the  whole  by  reference  to  positive 
records  and  positive  experience,  supplied  standards 
of  probability  which  were  of  use  elsewhere.  The 
Court  of  the  Pontiffs  seems  to  have  admitted  to  the 
sacred  records  only  such  statements  as  stood  very 
rigorous  examination.  For  the  list  of  prodigies  is 
less  striking  by  what  it  inserts,  than  by  what  it  omits. 
These  officers  of  the  state  religion  must  have  declined 
to  receive  a  huge  mass  of  fables,  such  as  those  which 
form  so  large  a  part  of  the  mediaeval  lives  of  the 
saints,  fables  which,  we   know  from   other   sources, 


34         THE   WORSHIP   OF  THE   ROMANS 

must  have  arisen  on  the  soil  of  Italy,  in  the  earlier 
ages  of  its  history. 

Even  the  comparatively  sober  narratives  which  we 
are  considering,  were  limited  to  periods  of  popular 
excitement.  Livy  notes  this  fact  as  having  some 
bearing  upon  them.  It  seems  from  certain  passages 
in  his  history  that  the  Roman  administration  could 
only  then  be  compelled  to  take  any  notice  of  them, 
and  that  its  main  concern  was  not  so  much  with 
the  meaning  of  these  miracles,  as  with  the  pacifica- 
tion of  the  public  mind.  It  is  usual  in  some 
quarters  to  abuse  the  Roman  Government  for  its 
attitude  towards  the  popular  religion,  as  though  it 
were  setting  the  tune  of  popular  feeling.  We  must 
always  bear  in  mind  that  religious  belief  at  Rome 
was  far  stronger  than  appears  from  the  literature 
taken  by  itself.  If  we  had  all  the  facts  before  us, 
we  should  doubtless  see  better  why  the  Senate 
viewed  this  important  element  in  the  national  life 
with  apprehension,  and  as  something  to  be  kept 
under  careful  control. 

Here,  then,  we  find  marked  that  distinction  which 
has  already  been  drawn  between  the  ideals  of  the 
governing  body,  and  the  great  mass  of  the  people. 
Livy,  coming  to  Rome  with  something  lingering  in 
his  heart  of  the  old  beliefs  and  ideas  of  provincial 
life,  was  perplexed  by  the  contrast.  He  looked 
backwards  to  find  an  age  in  which  this  contrast  did 
not   exist.      "  I    am    not   ignorant,"   he   says,   "  that 


THE   WORLD   AROUND  85 

wonders  have  ceased  to  be  announced  publicly,  and 
to  be  entered  in  our  public  records  ;  owing  to  that 
carelessness  which  leads  men  to  believe  that  the  gods 
conceal  the  future  from  them.  I  leave  it  to  others," 
he  exclaims,  "  to  mock  those  who  reverence  the 
past,"—  (the  past,  that  is,  seen  through  the  atmosphere 
of  the  religious  fancy).  "  For  if,  as  learned  men  feign 
rather  than  know,  there  should  be  somewhere  a  City 
of  the  Wise  " — wise  men,  who  perhaps  have  thrown 
aside  their  fathers'  beliefs,  "  the  princes  of  such  a  city 
would  not  be  more  sober  or  less  ambitious,  the 
people  of  such  a  city  would  not  lead  better  lives 
than  in  old  Rome."  And  yet  the  spirit  that 
questions  finds  a  voice  in  the  historian,  too.  "  Super- 
stition," he  remarks,  "sees  the  interference  of  the 
gods  in  trifling  matters.  When  the  mind  is  swayed 
by  religious  excitement,  marvellous  reports  find 
currency,  and  are  believed  without  due  consideration. 
Nay,  the  very  faith  of  simple-hearted  and  religious 
men  increases  the  number  of  these  stories."  And  so 
Livy  is  compelled,  almost  against  his  will,  to  justify 
the  traditional  attitude  of  the  government. 

We  may  suspect  that  the  leading  men  at  Rome 
had  made  up  their  mind  upon  these  things  more 
than  a  century  before  Livy's  time,  ever  since  the 
incoming  and  partial  triumph  of  Greek  ways  of 
thinking.  We  should  not  go  very  far  wrong  if  we 
let  Cicero  speak  for  them  : — 

"  The  Senate  hears,  it  may  be,  that  there  has  been 


86  THE   WORSHIP   OF   THE   ROMANS 

a  shower  of  blood,  or  that  the  statues  of  the  gods 
have  sweated.  You  do  not  think,  do  you,  that 
Thales  or  Anaxagoras,  or  any  man  of  science  at  all 
would  have  believed  such  reports  ?  Blood  and  sweat 
can  only  come  from  a  body  of  some  kind.  It  may 
have  been  some  discoloration  caused  by  earthy 
matter  that  looked  like  blood  ;  and  moisture  such  as 
we  see  on  plastered  walls  in  the  street  when  the 
sirocco  blows,  suggested  sweat.  Besides,  these 
things  seem  of  more  importance  when  people  are 
alarmed  in  time  of  war,  while  in  time  of  peace  they 
pass  unnoticed.  They  are  believed  more  readily, 
and  invented  with  more  safety,  in  times  of  fear 
and  danger.  Mice,  we  are  told,  nibbled  the 
shields  at  Lanuvium  before  the  Marsic  war.  As  if 
it  mattered  whether  the  mice,  that  are  always 
gnawing  something  night  and  day,  nibbled  shields 
or  sieves.  They  have  been  at  my  copy  of  Plato's 
Republic  lately.  Am  I,  therefore,  to  alarm  myself 
about  politics  ? " 

If,  however,  we  wished  for  someone  to  represent 
the  general  opinion,  it  would  be  safer  to  take  Livy 
than  Cicero.  At  the  end  of  the  republic,  it  seemed, 
indeed,  that  the  spread  of  Greek  thought  among 
the  Romans,  was  freeing  them  from  the  burden  of 
these  superstitious  fears.  But  this  is  an  illusion 
created  by  literature.  The  great  writers  of  Rome, 
like  those  of  Athens,  were  in  imperfect  sympathy 
with    their    contemporaries.      They    were    admired 


THE   WORLD   AROUND  87 

without  being  understood  altogether ;  and  where 
they  were  understood,  they  did  not  always  command 
assent.  The  individual  could  not  be  explained 
altogether  from  the  conditions  of  his  time,  and — 
what  is  perhaps  more  important  here — the  time 
could  not  be  interpreted  through  any  single  writer,  or, 
indeed,  group  of  writers ;  least  of  all  through  those 
of  the  greatest  eminence.  They  conduct  us  too  far 
from  the  general  level  of  thought  and  action. 

On  the  other  hand  when  the  most  brilliant  period 
of  literary  production  had  passed  away,  and  what 
is  sometimes  called  decadence  had  set  in,  we  find 
ourselves  under  the  guidance  of  men  who  move  along 
more  familiar  courses.  They  are  closer  to  that 
common  temperament  and  order  of  mind  which  may 
be  marked  off  as  the  social  soul.  Hence  we  find 
that  they  represent  more  truly  the  general  feeling 
with  regard  to  religious  beliefs  and  practices.  This 
change  in  the  importance  and  originality  of  the 
leading  writers  of  Rome,  would  seem  to  have  taken 
place  without  any  answering  change  in  the  general 
temperament.  And  for  proof  of  this  we  may  appeal 
to  the  continuous  record  of  wonders  which  extends 
right  past  Cicero  into  the  times  of  the  middle 
empire.  When  Apuleius  declared  in  the  second 
century  that  he  accounted  nothing  to  be  impossible, 
we  hear  in  him  the  voice  of  the  same  belief  as  that 
which  inspired  the  earliest  records. 

When    the    distinction    is    thus    drawn    between 


88  THE   WORSHIP   OF   THE   ROMANS 

Cicero  and  Apuleius,  it  is  not  meant  that  the 
popular  conception  of  religion,  of  which  Apuleius 
is  the  spokesman,  is  any  truer  than  that  of  Cicero. 
This  would  be  a  glaring  perversion  of  the  truth. 
It  would  be  as  mistaken  as  to  affirm  that  the 
spiritual  ideas  of  Aeschylus  and  Sophocles  are  less 
exalted  than  those  of  Pausanias  or  Plutarch, 

Horace,  who  might  seem  to  have  an  opinion  like 
that  of  Cicero,  turns  out  in  the  end  to  be  a  witness 
on  the  other  side.  On  one  occasion  he  travelled 
from  Rome  to  Brindisi  with  the  most  delightful 
company  his  time  could  furnish  :  Maecenas,  Virgil, 
Varius,  who  after  the  poet's  death  edited  the  Aeneid, 
and  other  distinguished  men.  At  Egnatia,  a  town 
on  the  coast  north-west  of  Brindisi,  the  priests  tried 
to  persuade  the  distinguished  visitors  that  the  incense 
burnt  on  their  altars  with  a  sacred  light,  lumine  sacro, 
although  no  flame  was  applied.  "A  Jew  might 
believe  this,"  writes  Horace,  "  not  I  ;  for  I  have 
learnt  that  the  gods  live  careless  of  mankind,  and 
if  Nature  does  any  wonder  it  is  not  the  gods  who 
in  anger  send  it  down  from  their  high  palace  of 
heaven."  The  Italian  priests  retain  their  ancient 
arts  still ;  every  year  at  the  end  of  September  the 
blood  of  San  Gennaro,  solid  at  other  times,  becomes 
liquid,  to  the  great  delight  of  the  Neapolitan 
populace.  Horace's  scepticism,  however,  was  not 
permanent.  In  later  life  he  seems  to  have  been 
converted    by  what  he   regarded    as   a   providential 


THE   WORLD   AROUND  89 

escape  from  a  falling  tree.  And  henceforth  he 
thought  much  in  the  same  way  about  such  matters 
as  the  average  Italian. 

Let  us  now  proceed  to  gather  some  proofs  that 
the  changes  in  belief  were  only  on  the  surface.  In 
the  spring  of  69  A.D. — the  year  before  the  fall  of 
the  Holy  City — Otho  set  out  for  the  north  of  Italy 
to  encounter  the  generals  of  Vitellius.  Just  before 
he  began  his  march  wonders  were  reported  of  more 
or  less  familiar  types.  The  reins  of  the  sacred  car 
in  the  Capitol  were  lost.  The  statue  of  Divine 
Julius  turned  from  east  to  west.  The  phantom  of 
a  man  of  more  than  human  stature  rushed  forth 
from  the  temple  of  Juno.  Tacitus  in  recounting 
these  things  observes  that  in  less  civilized  times 
such  events  occurred  in  time  of  peace,  whereas 
at  a  later  date  they  were  only  heard  of  in  time 
of  alarm.  The  historian  had  not  made  up  his 
mind  upon  the  deepest  of  all  matters :  "  I  cannot 
come  to  an  opinion,"  he  says,  "whether  human 
history  is  guided  by  Providence  and  an  unchanging 
destiny,  or  is  at  the  mercy  of  chance."  Hence  his 
uncertainty  with  regard  to  miraculous  narratives. 
Although  he  shrank  from  collecting  legends  as 
unworthy  of  a  historian,  he  also  feared  to  refuse 
belief  to  accounts  which  had  received  wide  currency 
and  belief.  Sometimes  he  seems  to  be  disposed  to 
accept  them  altogether.  Let  us  take  an  example 
which  is  also  interesting  in  itself.     "  When  Vespasian 


9o         THE   WORSHIP   OF   THE   ROMANS 

was  in  Alexandria,"  says  Tacitus,  "many  miracles 
happened  which  shewed  that  the  favour  of  heaven 
and  the  inclination  of  the  spirits  was  towards  him. 
A  poor  blind  man,  well  known  for  his  misfortune, 
was  warned  of  the  god  Serapis  in  a  dream,  and 
fell  at  the  emperor's  feet  beseeching  that  his  spittle 
might  be  put  upon  the  sightless  eyeballs.  Another 
with  a  diseased  hand  prayed  at  the  bidding  of  the 
same  god  that  the  prince  would  tread  upon  it. 
Vespasian  consented  after  some  hesitation,  amid 
the  excitement  of  the  multitude.  The  hand  re- 
covered its  use,  and  daylight  shone  again  upon  the 
sight  of  the  blind  man."  The  story  was  still  told 
in  the  time  of  Tacitus,  by  men  who  had  witnessed 
the  occurrence.  Royal  personages,  and  especially 
the  English  kings,  have  been  credited  with  similar 
powers.  In  1683  Charles  the  Second  appointed  fit 
times  for  the  Publick  Healings  in  which  his  majesty, 
"in  no  less  measure  than  his  royal  predecessors," 
had  had  good  success.  At  the  beginning  of  the 
present  century  Prince  Hohenlohe  believed  himself, 
and  was  believed  by  others,  to  have  powers  of 
miraculous  healing. 

Over  against  the  standpoint  of  the  populace, 
which  overlooked  the  normal  and  customary  to  fix  its 
gaze  upon  the  unusual  and  strange,  we  must  set  the 
calmer  and  wiser  attitude  of  the  thinkers  who  com- 
prehended the  universality  of  law  under  the  notion 
of  a  divine   or   reasonable    Providence.      Although 


THE   WORLD   AROUND  91 

modern  apologists  feel  themselves  summoned  some- 
times to  combat  the  notion  of  law  as  expounded  by 
physical  science,  the  early  fathers  preferred  to  dwell 
precisely  on  this  uniformity  of  history,  and  found 
in  it  a  leading  token  of  the  truth  of  monotheism. 
"  One  God,"  says  Augustine,  "  rules  and  guides  the 
world,  although  the  causes  through  which  he  operates 
are  obscure." 


NATURE    WORSHIP 


ALTHOUGH  the  Roman  had  not  risen  to  any 
general  conception  of  the  world,  before  he  came 
into  contact  with  Greek  thought,  he  had  made  a 
beginning  towards  such  a  conception.  The  life  of 
Nature  affected  him  as  something  with  a  practical 
bearing  on  his  interests,  if  it  did  not  stir  him  to 
the  vivid  fancies  of  his  southern  and  eastern  neigh- 
bours. With  a  little  care  we  can  glean  from  Roman 
literature  enough  to  enable  us  to  enter  somewhat  into 
his  state  of  mind.  We  come  across  vague  personifi- 
cations, spirits  of  the  woods  and  of  the  fountains, 
which,  so  to  speak,  were  intermediaries  between  him 
and  his  surroundings.  Let  us  try  to  form  some  notion 
of  the  way  in  which  they  came  into  his  thoughts. 

In  doing  this  we  must  try  to  project  ourselves  out 
of  the  present  into  the  past  of  classical  antiquity. 
One  main  difference  at  once  suggests  itself.  We 
must  put  on  one  side  the  modern  feeling  for  land- 
scape, and  all  that  it  implies.  Mr.  Ruskin  has  marked 
off  what  he  calls  the  pathetic  fallacy,  by  which  we 
project  our  own  emotions  on  to  the  realm  of  natural 
change.     Earth,  as   Wordsworth    says,  steals   some- 


NATURE  WORSHIP  93 

thing  in  this  way  from  pensive  hearts ;  but  it  gains 
something,  too,  from  our  better  acquaintance  with  the 
laws  of  Nature.  The  very  notion  of  landscape  is 
somewhat  strange,  and  is,  indeed,  almost  impossible 
to  translate  into  Latin.  The  poets  specify  the  various 
objects  in  their  kinds,  which  are  embraced  in  landscape. 
They  suggest  but  rarely  that  they  grasp  them  alto- 
gether at  one  view.  On  the  other  hand,  the  idea  of 
a  universal  life  of  Nature  has  only  become  clear  since 
the  science  of  life  has  attained  something  like  its 
present  stage  of  development.  Only  recently  have 
we  come  to  regard  the  life  of  Nature  as  a  realm 
of  law.  The  exquisite  adaptation  of  living  creatures, 
and  of  trees  and  plants  to  their  surroundings,  the 
revelation  of  unseen  worlds  of  life  in  the  microscope ; 
all  these  conspire  to  deepen  the  emotions  with  which 
we  look  out  upon  the  world,  and  to  alienate  us  from 
the  ancient  temper. 

The  Roman,  however,  viewing  animals  and  plants, 
and  the  operations  of  Nature,  generally,  as  vehicles 
through  which  powers,  dimly  apprehended,  find  their 
expression,  was  little  inclined  to  dwell  upon  the 
things  of  Nature  for  their  own  sake.  He  tried  to 
read  in  them  the  utterances  of  good  and  evil  spirits, 
as  though  all  was  unimportant  except  man  and  his 
doings,  and  the  powers  that  guided  him.  Those 
whose  spiritual  sense  was  keen,  could  see  through 
the  veil  and  had  their  ears  quickened.  To  hear 
the    voice    of    the    fauns,   to    look    upon    the    gods 


94         THE   WORSHIP   OF  THE   ROMANS 

face  to  face ;  such  experiences,  it  was  thought, 
were  not  infrequent,  and  compelled  every  mind, 
which  was  not  hardened  or  blasphemous,  to  confess 
that  the  gods  were  surely  present.  Since  rivers 
and  mountains  were  meaningless  in  themselves,  it 
came  about  that  they  were  thought  of  under  the 
image  of  the  indwelling  spirits,  and  the  material 
use  or  damage  that  came  by  rain,  or  thunderstorm, 
or  floods,  seemed  to  be  the  action  of  these  spirits, 
rather  than  of  the  natural  objects  themselves.  The 
most  vivid  figures  in  the  Roman  mythology  are  the 
fauns,  the  wood  spirits,  the  fountain  spirits ;  precisely 
those  figures  which  can  be  referred  most  directly 
to  the  life  of  Nature. 

In  a  past,  that  is  not  very  far  removed,  a  great  part 
of  Europe  was  woodland.  Gilbert  White,  speaking 
of  the  forest  of  Wolmer,  says  that  he  saw  "  cottages 
on  the  verge  of  this  wild  district,  whose  timbers  con- 
sisted of  a  black,  hard  wood,  looking  like  oak,  which, 
the  owners  assured  me,  they  procured  from  the  bogs 
by  probing  the  soil  with  spits  or  some  such  instru- 
ments." If  we  may  judge  from  the  prehistoric  pile 
villages  of  the  plains  of  Lombardy,  the  north  of  Italy 
seems  also  to  have  been  covered  once  with  dense 
forests  of  elm,  chestnut,  and  especially  of  oak.  The 
Roman  beliefs,  amid  surroundings  not  altogether 
changed  from  this,  gathered  especially  round  the 
forest  and  the  underwoods.  The  mysterious  life 
which   rises   in   the   spring,   and   dies   away   in    the 


NATURE   WORSHIP  95 

autumn,  disturbed  their  minds  with  the  presenti- 
ments of  unknown  beings.  The  black  shadows  of 
the  groves  of  ilex  brought  the  cry  to  the  lips  of 
him  on  whom  they  stole,  "a  spirit  is  here."  The 
solemn  awe  which  the  Italians  thus  felt  amid 
familiar  woodland  scenery  became  unendurable  when 
they  stepped  upon  foreign  soil.  The  Roman  troops 
hesitated  in  the  year  310,  B.C.,  before  they  entered 
the  Ciminian  Forest.  And  when  the  consul's  brother 
disguised  himself  and  passed  through,  he  was  not 
so  much  protected  by  his  knowledge  of  the  language 
of  the  country,  as  by  the  assurance  of  the  Tuscans 
that  no  one  would  dare  to  pass  the  barrier.1 

The  business  of  the  woodman  was  regarded  almost 
as  an  offence  against  the  sanctity  of  the  forest.  The 
Roman  farmer  would  sacrifice  a  pig  to  the  spirit 
of  the  wood  —  be  it  god  or  goddess  —  before  he 
began  to  thin  it.  In  the  solemn  ceremonial  of 
the  Brethren  of  the  Fields,  a  sow  and  a  lamb 
without  blemish  were  offered,  when  in  their  sacred 
grove  a  tree  fell  through  age,  or  when  some  laurels, 
which  had  been  injured  by  a  storm,  were  cut  down, 
or  when  some  trees  had  been  struck  by  lightning. 
"There  are  several  thickets  and  clumps  of  trees  in 
Berar,  from  which  no  stick  is  even  cut,  nor  even  the 
dead  wood  picked  up,  though  firewood  is  scarce,  and 
timber  valuable."  2 

1  Ov.  Fast.  in.  296.     Liv.  ix.   36. 

■  Cato,  R.  R.  139.    Wilm.  2 88 1-5.     Lyall,  As.  Stud.  12. 


96         THE   WORSHIP   OF  THE   ROMANS 

When  the  Romans  reflected  upon  these  beliefs  and 
usages,  they  began  to  formulate  more  or  less  scientific 
theories.  "  Trees  have  a  soul,"  says  the  elder  Pliny, 
"  since  nothing  on  earth  lives  without  one.  They  are 
the  temples  of  spirits,  and  the  simple  country  side 
dedicates  still  a  noble  tree  to  some  god.  For  we  do 
not  reverence  the  statues  which  glisten  in  their  gold 
and  ivory,  more  than  our  woodlands  and  the  peace 
that  reigns  in  them.  The  various  kinds  of  trees  are 
sacred  to  their  protecting  spirits ;  the  oak  to  Jupiter, 
the  laurel  to  Apollo,  the  olive  to  Minerva,  the  myrtle 
to  Venus,  the  white  poplar  to  Hercules."  The  modern 
Arabs  think  of  their  sacred  trees  as  places  where 
angels  or  jinn  descend,  and  may  be  heard  dancing 
and  singing.  And  the  Italian,  in  like  manner,  seemed 
to  himself  sometimes  to  overhear,  or  catch  a  glimpse 
of,  the  beings  that  haunted  his  woods.1 

We  can  trace  two  ideas  which  underlie  the  custom 
of  hanging  votive  offerings  upon  trees.  The  more 
primitive  idea  is  that  the  tree-spirit  is  fed  and  clothed 
by  what  is  brought.  Single  trees  all  over  Palestine 
are  covered  with  bits  of  rags  from  the  garments  of 
passing  villagers.  "  The  sacred  date-palm  at  Nejran 
used  to  be  adored  at  an  annual  feast,  when  it  was  all 
hung  with  fine  clothes  and  women's  ornaments.  A 
similar  tree  to  which  the  people  of  Mecca  resorted 
annually,  and  hung  upon  it  weapons,  ostrich  eggs, 
and  other  gifts,  is  spoken  of  in  the  traditions  of  the 

1  Plin.  N.  H.  xii.  pref. 


NATURE   WORSHIP  97 

prophet  as  'the  tree  to  hang  things  on.'  We  find 
the  clue  to  these  usages  when  we  are  told  that  "in 
Hadramaut  it  is  dangerous  to  touch  the  sensitive 
mimosa,  because  the  spirit  that  resides  in  the  tree 
will  avenge  the  injury."  Roman  sailors  used  to 
make  their  vows  before  an  oleaster  that  if  they 
returned  in  safety  from  their  voyages,  they  would 
hang  their  clothes  upon  it  as  a  votive  offering.1 

From  this  more  rudimentary  belief,  of  which  we 
find  comparatively  few  evidences  in  Roman  litera- 
ture, we  arrive  at  the  second  idea :  namely,  that  the 
offerings  come  into  the  possession,  rather  than  the 
use,  of  the  indwelling  spirit.  The  Roman  general 
who  had  killed  the  opposing  commander  upon  the 
battle-field,  hung  the  armour  of  his  enemy  upon  the 
sacred  oak  tree  of  the  Capitol.  So,  in  the  Aeneid, 
Pallas  promises  to  hang  upon  the  oak  sacred  to 
Tiber,  the  armour  and  spoils  of  Halaesus.  The 
sacred  precincts  of  the  temple  of  Diana  at  Nemi 
were  enclosed  with  hedges ;  these  were  almost 
covered  with  the  votive  offerings  hung  upon  them 
by  the  worshippers  of  the  goddess.2 

There  was  thought  to  be  a  secret  sympathy  be- 
tween the  life  of  trees  and  of  human  beings.  When 
Augustus  visited  the  island  of  Caprea,  a  holm  oak, 
which  was  flagging,  seemed  to  recover  itself  on  his 
coming.     The  Emperor,  in  his  delight,  became  the 

1  ReU  Sew.  169.     Aen.  xii.  766. 

2  Am.  x.  423.     Fast.  iii.  267. 

G 


98         THE   WORSHIP   OF   THE   ROMANS 

owner  of  the  island  by  giving  Aenaria  in  exchange 
to  the  Neapolitans.  Livia,  soon  after  her  marriage  to 
Augustus,  happened  to  be  visiting  his  estate  at  Veii. 
An  eagle,  it  was  said,  flew  by  one  day,  and  placed  in 
her  lap  a  white  hen,  holding  in  its  beak  a  twig  of 
laurel.  The  sprig  of  laurel  was  planted,  and  there 
sprang  up  a  laurel  shrubbery,  from  which  the  mem- 
bers of  the  Imperial  house  plucked  a  branch  before 
they  celebrated  their  triumphs.  On  their  return 
from  the  festival,  the  branch  was  planted  at  once. 
It  was  observed  that  the  tree  which  grew  from  it 
flagged  just  before  the  death  of  its  planter.  In  the 
last  year  of  Nero,  the  whole  plantation  died  off, 
root  and  branch,  as  though  it  could  not  survive  the 
Julian  house. 

There  used  to  be  an  old  oak  tree  sacred  to  Mars, 
in  the  grounds  of  the  Flavian  villa.  At  the  birth  of 
each  of  the  three  children  of  Vespasia  it  put  forth  a 
shoot  from  the  lower  part  of  the  trunk,  and  these,  the 
historian  assures  us,  were  the  certain  tokens  of  the 
destiny  of  each  of  her  children.  The  first  was  weak, 
and  withered  very  soon.  So  the  little  girl  who  was 
born  then,  did  not  live  through  the  year.  The 
second  shoot  was  very  strong  and  flourishing,  and 
promised  great  good  fortune;  while  the  third  shoot 
was  like  a  tree.  The  father  of  the  children  consulted 
a  soothsayer,  and  told  his  mother,  on  this  double 
authority,  that  she  would  have  an  emperor  for  a 
grandson.     The  old  lady  chuckled — cachinasse — and 


NATURE   WORSHIP  99 

wondered  that  her  own  reason  should  still  be  un- 
impaired, while  her  son  was  already  out  of  his  mind. 

The  strange  fellow  feeling  of  the  Italian  trees  for 
Vespasian  continued  throughout  his  life.  When  he 
was  aedile,  the  Emperor  Gaius  found  fault  with  his 
administration,  and  insulted  him  publicly.  But  he 
was  assured  by  many  omens  that  his  rise  to  power 
was  certain  in  the  end,  although  it  might  be  inter- 
rupted. A  cypress  tree  on  his  ancestral  estate  was 
torn  up  by  the  roots  and  thrown  to  the  ground.  The 
next  day  it  rose  up  again,  greener  and  stronger  than 
ever.  The  same  tree  fell  and  died  at  the  death  of 
Domitian,  with  whom  the  Flavian  dynasty  ended. 
There  is  a  fifteenth-century  story  to  a  similar  effect. 
A  shoemaker  of  Basle  went  to  a  new  house,  and  each 
of  his  three  children  chose  a  tree  in  the  garden. 
When  spring  came,  the  trees  of  the  two  girls  had 
white  blossoms  —  this  pointed  to  their  calling  as 
nuns ;  while  their  brother's  tree  bore  one  red  flower. 
He  became  a  preaching  friar  in  Prague,  and  found  a 
martyr's  death  at  the  hands  of  the  Hussites.1 

The  spirit  that  dwelt  in  the  tree  thus  becomes 
identified  with  the  life  of  those  who  are  its  neigh- 
bours, and  the  spirit's  abode  is  a  sacred  Tree  of  Life. 
As  we  have  seen,  the  tree  seems  to  have  become  a 
kind  of  home  for  the  dead.  The  souls  of  those  who 
were  buried  under  its  shadow  passed  into  it,  and  were 
even   thought  to   cling  to   its  branches   as  dreams. 

1  Suet.  Aug.  92;  Galb.  Ij   Vesp.  5;  Domit.  15. 


ioo        THE   WORSHIP   OF   THE   ROMANS 

Although  this  reverence  took  different  forms,  and 
was  not  often  expressed  in  such  clear  ideas  as  those 
of  Virgil,  we  can  measure  the  intensity  of  the  feeling 
by  what  we  are  told  of  the  sacred  trees  of  Rome. 
Here,  as  in  other  cities,  it  was  not  only  a  single 
family  whose  life  was  bound  up  with  that  of  a  tree  ; 
the  whole  community  was  interested.  In  the  Roman 
forum,  for  example,  there  was  a  sacred  fig  tree  which 
never  began  to  wither  but  that  it  presaged  some 
event  of  moment  for  the  nation.  In  the  reign  of 
Nero  it  showed  signs  of  decay,  and  there  was  great 
consternation  until  it  put  forth  fresh  foliage.  There 
was  also  a  cornel  tree  on  the  slopes  of  the  Palatine. 
This  was,  too,  regarded  with  the  greatest  reverence. 
According  to  an  old  legend,  it  sprang  from  the  shaft 
of  a  spear  hurled  by  Romulus.  When  any  passer-by 
thought  that  it  was  withering,  he  raised  an  alarm. 
All  the  neighbours  came  to  the  rescue  at  once  with 
buckets  of  water.  Owing  to  its  roots  being  interfered 
with,  it  died  in  the  reign  of  Gaius.1 

In  the  beliefs  we  have  been  just  considering,  the 
life  of  the  tree  has  been  thought  of  as  having  an 
uninterrupted  sympathy  with  human  life.  In  other 
cases  the  communion  with  the  magical  existence 
must  be  renewed  from  time  to  time,  as  though  its 
virtue  tended  to  pass  away.  The  most  natural  time 
for  renewing  the  communion  is  in  the  spring,  when 
fresh   vegetation    appears.      On   the   first   of  March 

1  Tac,  Ann.  xiii.  58.     Plut.  Rom.  20. 


NATURE   WORSHIP  101 

laurel  boughs  were  hung  at  the  doors  of  the  flamens, 
and  of  the  pontiffs,  at  the  entrance  of  the  court- 
house of  the  Salii,  and  in  the  temple  of  Vesta.  Like 
our  boughs  of  royal  oak  they  remained  hanging 
until  the  next  year.  At  the  feast  of  Pales,  too,  the 
sheepfolds  were  hung  with  branches.1 

What  belief  underlies  these  customs  ?  It  must  be 
something  more  than  a  mere  feeling  of  protection. 
The  branches  seem  here  to  be  used  rather  as  charms 
against  evil  influences.  Let  us  trace  the  proof  of 
this.  All  goods  which  were  about  to  change  owners 
used  to  be  sprinkled  with  an  aspergill  of  laurel.  We 
can  interpret  this  in  the  light  of  an  instance  which 
Mr.  Frazer  gives.  "  The  people  of  Nias  carefully 
scrub  and  scour  the  weapons  which  they  buy,  in 
order  to  efface  all  connection  between  the  things 
and  the  persons  from  whom  they  bought  them."  In 
the  Roman  triumphs  the  spears  and  javelins  of  the 
legionaries,  and  the  fasces  of  the  commander  were 
wreathed  with  laurel.  Masurius  is  right,  most  likely, 
when  he  explains  this  usage  as  a  purification  from 
the  blood  of  the  enemy.  The  spirits  of  the 
slaughtered  foe  would  haunt  their  slayers,  and  seek 
to  carry  off  their  life.2 

By  a  necessary  developement  of  primitive  thought 
— a  topic  to  which  we  shall  return — these  beliefs 
came  to  be  referred  to  the  existence  of  spirits,  or 

1  Ov.  Fast.  iii.  137.     Tac.  Ann.  xii.  24. 

2  Golden  Bough,  i.  154.     Plin.  N.  H.  xv.  135. 


102        THE   WORSHIP   OF   THE   ROMANS 

rather,  beings  very  much  like  man  himself,  with 
bodies  and  human  thoughts  and  desires.  The  awe 
which  the  Roman  felt  in  the  forest,  led  him  to  regard 
it  as  haunted  by  such  beings.  The  wonderful  life  of 
the  trees  was  thought  to  be  due  to  wood  spirits, 
silvaniy  whose  life  was  bound  up  with  that  of  the 
trees  they  inhabited.  As  time  passed,  all  these  wood 
spirits  seemed  to  melt  into  one  great  divinity  :  "  the 
mighty  god  and  most  holy  shepherd,  Silvanus." 
Vows  are  made  to  him  for  the  safety  of  the  reigning 
prince.  He  has  a  recognised  priesthood  organised 
into  colleges.  The  governor  of  an  Alpine  province, 
Pomponius  Victor,  makes  a  vow  to  Silvanus  "half 
prisoned  in  the  mountain  ash,"  that  if  he  is  granted  a 
safe  return  to  Rome,  a  thousand  tall  trees  shall  be 
dedicated  to  the  god.1 

But  we  must  not  let  this  later  development  blind 
us  to  the  fact  that  we  are  dealing  here  simply  with  a 
wood  fairy  ;  one  whose  voice,  perhaps,  broke  on  the 
ear  of  the  traveller  as  he  passed  through  the  forest  at 
night.  Like  the  fairies  of  northern  lands,  he  is 
sometimes  spiteful.  Augustine  has  told  us  how,  at 
the  birth  of  a  Roman  child,  three  spirits  were  called 
in  to  protect  the  mother  against  Silvanus.  That  he 
might  receive  due  notice  of  this,  three  men  would  go 
at  night  round  to  the  thresholds  of  the  doors  of  the 
house.  First  they  struck  them  with  an  axe,  then 
with  a  pestle,   and  lastly  they  swept  them  with  a 

1  Wilm.  96,  145,  146,  1262,  1734. 


NATURE   WORSHIP  103 

brush.  The  wood  spirit  was  kept  from  coming  in  by 
these  tokens  of  husbandry.  For  without  iron,  trees 
could  not  be  pruned  or  cut  down  ;  nor  the  spelt  or 
wheat  made  ready  without  being  mashed  with  a 
pestle;  nor  corn  be  heaped  together  without  brushes. 
The  protecting  spirits  received  their  names  from 
these  three  implements  :  Intercidona  from  the  cutting 
of  the  axe,  Piliunnus  from  the  pestle,  Deverra  from 
the  brushes,  because  they  sweep.1 

In  this  account  it  seems  somewhat  superfluous  that 
the  names  of  the  three  spirits  should  be  introduced 
to  explain  the  use  of  the  axe,  the  pestle,  and  brush. 
These  are  charms  against  evil  spirits  and  witches. 
The  mother  and  the  new-born  child  were  thought  to 
be  in  especial  danger  from  them,  and  this  danger 
continued  to  be  very  great  for  the  child  until  it  had 
received  its  name.  The  wood  spirit  might  take  it 
away  with  him  to  the  woodland.  Iron  is  a  well- 
known  charm  against  witches.  Hence,  perhaps,  the 
axe.  And  the  use  of  the  pestle  is  explained,  when 
we  are  told  that  it,  too,  was  sometimes  tipped  with 
iron.  The  use  of  the  brush  would  seem  to  be  partly 
symbolic,  partly  effectual  in  itself,  as  sweeping  away 
evil  spirits.  A  similar  clearance  is  practised  still 
among  the  Uapes  Indians.  "When  a  birth  takes 
place  in  the  house,  everything  is  taken  out  of  it,  even 
the  pots  and  pans  and  bows  and  arrows,  till  the  next 
day.     The  mother  takes  the  child  to  the  river  and 

1  Civ.  Dei,  vi.  9. 


104        THE   WORSHIP   OF   THE   ROMANS 

washes  herself  and  it,  and  she  generally  remains  in 
the  house,  not  doing  any  work  for  four  or  five  days." * 
It  is  quite  unlikely  that  the  Roman  peasant 
burdened  his  memory  with  the  exact  names  of  these 
spirits.  Like  the  other  names  in  the  pontifical  lists 
or  indigitamenta,  they  arose,  in  all  probability  from 
the  industry  of  Roman  writers  on  religion,  attempt- 
ing, we  may  suppose,  to  introduce  into  the  religion 
of  Rome  something  of  the  definiteness  of  that  of 
Greece.  Yet  it  is  the  lack  of  definite  character  that 
strikes  us  in  the  objects  of  Roman  worship.  If  we 
wished  to  form  an  idea  of  this  worship,  the  wood 
fairies  will  serve  very  well.  When  we  compare  them 
with  the  typical  figures  of  Greek  mythology,  we 
can  mark  off  an  important  distinction.  Like  our 
English  fairies,  they  have  no  individuality.  They 
are  members  of  a  class.  They  are  restricted  to  one 
part  of  Nature  ;  the  forest  and  the  adjoining  country. 
Very  little  is  known  as  to  their  origin.  All  these 
negative  qualities  are  connected  with  the  stage  of 
worship  that  preceded  polytheism.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  gods  of  a  pantheon  have  each  a  special 
name  with  a  more  or  less  marked  personality. 
Something  is  known  as  to  their  birth  and  life.  They 
can  operate  in  many  different  parts  of  the  world.  Of 
such  gods  the  Romans  had  some,  it  is  true.  Jupiter 
and  Mars  answer,  perhaps,  to  the  account  we  have 
just  accepted.     Some  writers  would  refuse  to  admit 

1  Plin.  N.  H.  xvi.  97.     Wallace,  Amazon,  c.  xvii. 


NATURE   WORSHIP  105 

even  this,  and  point  to  the  fact  that  there  were  many 
Jupiters,  and  many  gods  called  Mars.  It  may  be 
replied  that  within  the  limits  of  a  single  Italian 
community  these  gods  do  not  appear  in  more  than 
one  form.  And  this  is,  perhaps,  as  much  as  can  be 
said  for  many  Greek  gods,  who,  nevertheless,  are 
regarded  as  having  individuality.  Having  made  this 
reservation,  we  can  maintain  that,  on  the  whole,  the 
Roman  religion  is,  in  its  earlier  form,  animistic  rather 
than  polytheistic :  concerned,  that  is,  with  the 
worship  of  vaguely  imaged  spirits  rather  than  clearly 
marked  deities.1 

Since  these  spirits  were  numerous  in  their  several 
spheres,  there  was  little  need  to  present  them  under 
the  form  of  an  image.  While  there  was  such  need  in 
the  case  of  a  god.  He  might  be  but  a  sojourner, 
unless  his  presence  was  secured  through  the  por- 
trayal of  his  visible  form. 

We  must  come  to  the  conclusion,  therefore,  that 
there  was  something  unreal  and  forced  in  the  repre- 
sentation of  Silvanus  as  a  particular  spirit.  And 
consequently,  we  may  not  look  for  a  genuine  and 
ancient  representation  of  him.  The  earliest  images, 
of  which  we  hear,  were  of  wood.  Later  he  was 
figured  with  great  detail  as  a  bearded  elderly  man 
holding  fruit  in  his  right  hand.  A  dog  is  often  by 
his  side  awaiting  his  glance. 

So  many  of  his  manifestations  took  place  in  the 

1  Jevons,  Intro.  Rom.  Qu.  p.  xxv. 


106        THE   WORSHIP   OF   THE   ROMANS 

time  of  Augustine,  that  the  saint  declared  that  it 
would  be  impudent  to  refuse  to  believe  in  them. 
The  people  of  the  wood  are  still  to  be  encountered 
in  Italy.  Round  Mantua  they  are  described  as  half 
man,  half  beast,  something  like  centaurs  in  fact,  who 
carry  off  and  devour  human  beings.  In  Valsugana 
the  salvanel,  as  he  is  named,  leads  people  astray  in 
the  woods,  who  come  across  his  track.  He  carries 
off  little  children  ;  brings  them  up  in  his  cave  and 
treats  them  kindly.  He  steals  milk  from  the  farmer. 
One  who  had  been  robbed  set  before  him  two  milk- 
pails  filled  with  wine.  He  drank ;  was  overcome 
with  the  wine.  He  was  then  caught  and  bound. 
To  buy  his  freedom  he  taught  his  capturer  to  make 
cheese.  This  calls  to  mind  the  story  of  Numa  and 
his  giving  wine  to  Faunus.  Like  the  wood  spirits 
of  Augustine's  time,  the  modern  people  of  the 
wood  are  said  to  fall  in  love  with  mortal  maidens. 
Paracelsus,  with  the  quaint  show  of  science  so 
characteristic  of  him,  gives  the  reason  of  this.  The 
wood  spirits  are  a  family  in  the  order  of  the  Saganae, 
or  elemental  spirits.  They  are  without  souls.  But 
they  can  receive  them  by  marriage  with  human 
beings. 

There  was  another  company  which  lived  in  the 
woods,  namely,  the  fauns.  In  the  neighbourhood  of 
Rome  the  country  people  were  convinced  that  the 
fauns  were  seen  in  the  fields  from  time  to  time.  It 
was  believed,  too,  that  they  burst  in  upon  the  deep 


NATURE   WORSHIP  107 

silence  of  the  forest  with  their  cries  and  merriment. 
They  made  sounds  as  "of  stringed  instruments  and 
sweet  plaintive  melodies  such  as  the  pipe  pours  forth, 
when- it  is  touched  by  the  fingers  of  the  players." 
Not  only  were  they  heard  at  night  making  music. 
Some  of  the  Romans  were  fortunate  enough  to 
overhear  them,  as  they  prophesied  the  future  in 
that  old-fashioned  Saturnian  measure  which  was 
the  language  of  the  Italian  fairy  land,  as  it  is  of 
ours.  In  times  of  danger  these  utterances  were  of 
use  even  to  the  Roman  state.1 

At  the  beginning  of  his  Georgics,  Virgil  invokes 
the  help  of  gods  and  goddesses  in  his  undertaking. 
Among  them  he  calls  upon  the  fauns  as  "the  very 
present  spirits  of  the  country."  Their  festival, 
faunalia,  took  place  on  the  fifth  of  December, 
when  the  year's  labours  were  done,  and  the  hus- 
bandman could  enjoy  his  well-earned  rest.  Horace 
has  left  us  a  hymn  for  this  feast. 

u  0  faun  that  loves  t  the  flying  maidens,  tread  kindly 
through  my  bounds  and  sunny  fields,  and  leave  me 
without  harming  the  young  of  the  herd.  For  a  tender 
kid  is  killed  when  the  year  is  done  ;  the  bowl  of  wine 
flows  full  for  thee,  the  companion  of  Venus.  The  old 
altar  smokes  with  frankincense.  When  this  feast 
comes  back,  all  the  flock  plays  upon  the  grass  meadow. 
In  the  meadow  the  villagers  and  the  oxen  keep  holy  day. 
Though  the  wolf  is  near,  the  lambs  are  fearless.     The 

1  Lucr.  iv.  583  (Munro's  trans.). 


io8        THE   WORSHIP   OF   THE   ROMANS 

woodland  sheds  its  leaves  for  thee.  The  labourer 
rejoices  as  with  triple  measure  he  foots  it  oil  the 
earth  that  wearies  him." 

There  was  another  and  more  celebrated  festival  of 
the  fauns,  the  Lupercalia.  It  took  place  on  the 
fifteenth  of  February.  On  this  day  goats  were 
killed.  After  the  sacrifice  two  youths  were  brought 
from  each  clan.  Their  faces  were  smeared  with  the 
blood  of  the  victims.  Then  they  were  wiped  with  a 
goatskin  that  had  been  steeped  in  milk.  They  must 
laugh  when  the  blood  is  wiped  away.  Their  name, 
luperci,  suggests  that  the  fauns  represented  by  the 
young  men,  were  thought  of  as  wolves.  Their 
laughter,  which  was  an  essential  part  of  the 
ceremony,  is  probably  to  be  interpreted  as  a  showing 
of  the  teeth,  and  is  thus  an  imitation  of  the  wolf. 
We  shall  find  in  another  instance  that  such  gestures 
were  thought  to  be  efficacious  against  pestilence. 
The  Luperci  drank  heavily  before  beginning  the 
celebration.  This  may  be  the  foundation  of  some 
of  the  stories  about  Faunus'  drunkenness.  They 
were  clothed  about  the  middle  with  the  skins  of 
their  slaughtered  victims.  In  their  hands  they 
took  strips  of  goatskin,  with  which  they  struck 
at  the  passers-by.  The  Roman  matrons  were  not 
loth  to  receive  these  blows  as  they  were  thought 
to  render  those  who  felt  them  prolific.  The  "  fauns  " 
started  from  a  grove  on  the  Palatine,  which  was 
called  the  Lupercal,  and  made  a  circuit  of  the  hill, 


NATURE   WORSHIP  109 

that  is  to  say,  of  the  site  to  which  primitive  Rome 
was  confined.1 

The  office  of  the  Luperci  was  filled  ordinarily  by 
men  of  middle  station,  knights,  secretaries,  military 
tribunes.  Antony  shared  in  this  wild  ceremonial 
when  he  occupied  the  high  office  of  consul.  Not 
only  so.  He  actually  addressed  a  public  meeting 
in  the  scanty  attire  of  the  celebrants.  It  was  then 
that  he  proposed  that  the  Roman  crown  should  be 
offered  to  Julius.  He  acted  by  design  in  all  this. 
He  wished  to  suggest  that  the  prophetic  figure  of 
Faunus  stood  before  his  audience.  When  the  theory 
of  Euhemerus  was  brought  to  Rome,  and  the  Roman 
deities  were  discovered  to  be  men  who  had  been 
raised  to  heaven,  Faunus,  like  Romulus,  was  said  to 
have  been  an  ancient  king :  the  son  of  Picus  ac- 
cording to  Virgil,  and  gifted  with  prophecy.  Antony 
then  would  seem  to  be  inspired  by  an  ancient  divine 
king  of  Italy  to  offer  the  crown  to  Caesar. 

In  Rome  the  west  wind  was  called  Favonius, 
that  is  to  say  the  wind  of  Faunus  (Favonus).  This 
began  to  blow  about  the  eighth  of  February.  Pliny 
describes  it  as  the  breath  that  makes  the  world 
fruitful,  genitalis  spiritus  mundi,  and  connects  it  with 
the  beginning  of  spring.  When  the  wind  stirs  the 
corn  in  waves  up  and  down,  the  country  people  near 
Konigsberg  say  that  the  wind  is  driving  the  goats 
through   the  corn,  or  that  the  goats  are  pasturing 

1  Plut.  Rom.  21.     Cic.  Phil.  xiii.  31.     Ov.  Fast.  ii.  267  ff. 


no        THE   WORSHIP   OF   THE   ROMANS 

there.  In  Lithuania  the  south-west  wind  is  called 
the  goat  wind.  It  was  the  pleasant  succession  of 
spring  and  Favonius  that  unloosed  the  chains  of 
winter.  Then  it  became  the  duty  of  the  peasant 
to  offer  a  kid  or  a  lamb  to  Faunus  in  the  shady 
wood.  The  Lupercalia  thus  celebrated  the  coming 
of  spring.  Rome  was  not  the  only  place  where 
they  were  held.     We  hear  of  them  also  at  Velitrae.1 

In  northern  Europe  processions  take  place  during 
the  spring  which  bear  a  strong  likeness  to  the  Roman 
festival.  In  the  Altmark  the  boys  of  the  village  go 
to  the  farmhouses  with  music,  and  strike  the  women 
of  the  house  with  birch  rods :  first  the  good  wife, 
then  her  daughters,  and  lastly  the  maidservants. 
In  return  they  get  schnaps,  eggs,  and  sausage,  from 
the  mistress,  while  the  maids  put  bunches  of  box  or 
other  green  in  the  hats  of  the  lads.  Palm  Sunday, 
or  Willow  Sunday,  as  it  is  called  in  the  Ukraine,  is 
regarded  by  many  Russians  as  a  preparation  for 
Easter.  On  this  day  thousands  go  to  church,  carrying 
willow  wands  to  be  blessed.  Scarcely  are  they 
outside  the  church  doors  after  the  service,  when  the 
willow  wands  are  swung  about,  chiefly  by  the  lads, 
and  let  fall  upon  the  backs  of  those  standing  by, 
especially  the  women  and  the  girls.  The  cry  is 
raised  all  the  time,  "  The  willow  strikes,  not  I.  Next 
week  is  Easter."  Sometimes  the  words  are  added, 
"Sickness   to   the   wood,   strength   to   your   bones." 

1  Plin.  N.  II.  xvi.  93.      Mannhardt,  A,  F,  W.  ii.  156. 


NATURE   WORSHIP  in 

The  blows  are  given  especially  to  those  who  have 
not  been  to  church.  In  Nottingham,  as  elsewhere 
in  England,  everyone  is  expected  on  "  Royal  Oak 
Day"  to  wear  some  oak  leaves  until  twelve  o'clock. 
Boys  provide  themselves  with  bunches  of  nettles, 
and  if  anyone  fails  to  "show  their  oak"  on  being 
asked,  they  are  struck  with  the  nettles.  This  seems 
to  be  a  relic  of  a  May-day  custom  in  which  the 
woods  were  visited  by  most,  and  the  stay-at-homes 
were  struck  that  they  might  share  in  the  virtue  of 
the  new  vegetation.  The  strips  of  goatskin,  then, 
with  which  the  Luperci  strike  the  bystanders,  seem 
intended  to  enable  them  to  share  in  the  sacrifice 
which  was  made  for  the  whole  community.1 

The  name  of  the  Luperci,  as  we  have  seen, 
suggests  that  they  were  thought  of  once  as  wolves, 
and  their  laughter  also  points  in  the  same  direction. 
If  this  is  the  case,  we  have  in  the  Lupercalia  a 
blending  of  two  beliefs,  one  that  the  wood  spirit  had 
the  shape  of  a  goat  (this  harmonizes  best  with  the 
Greek  idea  of  the  satyrs) ;  another  that  he  had  the 
shape  of  a  wolf.  We  are  told  that  it  was  thought 
dangerous  in  Italy  to  see  a  wolf,  and  that  if  the  man 
was  seen  first  by  the  wolf  he  lost  his  voice.  In  the 
same  way  it  was  thought  dangerous  to  see  a  faun 
when  he  lay  in  the  cornfields  at  midday.  The  belief 
is  still  widespread  that  wolf-like  beings  pass  over  the 
country  side.     In  some  parts  of  Germany,  when  the 

1  Mannhardt,  A.  F.  W.  i.  256. 


ii2        THE   WORSHIP   OF   THE   ROMANS 

wind  stirs  the  corn,  the  cry  is  still  raised,  "  There  go 
the  wolves." 

The  grotto  from  which  the  Luperci  started  is  said 
to  have  been  the  place  where  the  wolf  suckled  the 
foundlings.  Here,  then,  we  have  a  story  of  children 
brought  up  by  the  wood  spirits,  of  the  same  kind  as 
the  tales  of  fairy  changelings  which  are  so  common 
in  Irish  folklore. 

Not  far  from  the  city  of  Rome,  in  the  Faliscan 
country,  there  were  some  families  which  went  by 
the  name  of  hirpi,  or  wolves  (kirpus  being  a  wolf  in 
the  dialect  of  the  Sabines).  Mount  Soracte,  which 
dominates  the  country,  was  the  scene  of  an  annual 
sacrifice  to  Apollo.  A  bonfire  used  to  be  piled  up 
with  logs  of  wood,  and  the  wolves  used  to  leap 
through  this  without  receiving  any  hurt.  On  account 
of  this  they  had,  by  the  decree  of  the  Roman  Senate, 
perpetual  exemption  from  military  and  other  services. 
Varro  explained  their  passing  unscathed  over  the 
flame,  by  saying  that  they  applied  some  drug  to 
their  feet  beforehand. 

A  legend  was  current  to  the  following  effect  in 
order  to  account  for  the  rite.  Once  the  country 
people  were  sacrificing  to  the  god.  Suddenly,  some 
wolves  came  and  snatched  the  flesh  of  the  victims 
away.  When  the  shepherds  followed  the  wolves, 
they  came  to  a  cave  near  the  mountain,  which  was 
well  known  for  the  poisonous  mists  that  it  sent  forth. 
These  killed  any  human  being  who  came  too  near. 


NATURE   WORSHIP  113 

And,  inasmuch  as  the  shepherd  had  followed  the 
wolves  too  closely,  there  arose  a  pestilence.  On 
enquiry  at  the  oracle  they  were  told  that  the 
pestilence  could  be  stayed,  if  they  imitated  wolves. 
The  name  of  the  mountain,  Soracte,  and  of  the 
"wolves,"  Sorani,  seem  alike  to  be  derived  from 
the  Sabine  word  for  sun ;  in  the  same  way  as  the 
east  wind  is  called  the  sunwind  in  Latin,  so/anus. 
Hirpi  Sorani,  then,  means  the  wolves  of  the  sun- 
god.1 

On  the  twenty-first  of  June  at  midnight,  fires  are 
lit  on  the  tops  of  the  hills  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
Dublin.  A  writer  in  the  Gentleman  s  Magazine  says 
that  he  was  a  witness  of  this,  and  proceeds :  "  I  dis- 
covered shadows  of  people  near  the  fire  and  round 
it ;  and  every  now  and  then  they  quite  darkened 
it.  They  were  not  only  dancing  round,  but  passing 
through  the  fire.  It  was  the  custom  of  the  country 
on  that  day  to  make  their  families,  their  sons  and 
daughters,  and  their  cattle,  pass  through  the  fire, 
without  which  they  could  expect  no  success  in 
their  dairies  nor  in  their  crops  that  year."  An 
Irish  custom,  reported  from  King's  County,  pre- 
sents to  us  a  horse  passing  through  the  flames  in 
the  same  way  as  the  wolves  of  the  sun-god.  As 
the  bonfire  was  nearly  burnt  out,  "a  wooden  frame 
of  some  eight  feet  long  with  a  horse's  head  fixed 
to  one  end,  and  a  large  white    sheet  thrown    over 

1  Plin.  N.  H.  vii.  19.    Preller,  Rom.  Myth.  i.  269. 
H 


ii4        THE   WORSHIP   OF   THE   ROMANS 

it,  concealing  the  man  on  whose  head  it  was 
carried,  made  its  appearance.  This  was  greeted 
with  loud  cries  of  'The  White  Horse,'  and,  having 
been  safely  carried  by  the  skill  of  its  bearer  several 
times  through  the  fire,  with  a  bold  leap  it  pursued  the 
people,  who  ran  laughing  and  screaming  in  every 
direction."  On  being  asked  what  the  horse  was 
for,  they  replied  that  it  represented  all  cattle.  If 
we  may  argue  back  from  this  usage  to  the  ancient 
Italian  one,  the  wolves  and  the  Luperci  seem  to 
represent  the  community  in  their  respective  rites, 
and  their  actions  in  themselves  have  a  magic 
virtue  in  which  the  community  shares.  These 
survivals  of  the  present  day,  superstitions  in  the 
exact  sense  of  the  word,  may  help  us  to  enter 
into  the  mind  of  the  ancient  worshipper.  What 
we  must  observe  especially,  is  the  practical  character 
of  the  old  and  the  modern  customs.  On  this  side 
they  were  as  seriously  intended  as,  for  instance,  the 
regulations  by  which  the  foot  and  mouth  disease  is 
sought  to  be  stamped  out,  or  as  the  use  of  quaran- 
tine. 

We  have  thus  alighted  upon  a  somewhat  striking 
office  of  the  fauns.  Not  only  are  they  the  spirits 
of  the  wood.  They  are  also  in  their  human 
representatives,  the  sureties  for  the  continued  life 
of  man  and  beast.  It  is  not  difficult  to  trace  the 
thought  from  which  these  two  beliefs  come.  As 
the    embodiments    of    the    mysterious    life    of    the 


NATURE   WORSHIP  115 

wood,  they  are  also  its  channels  ;  and  can  impart 
this  life  either  in  their  animal  form,  when  sacrificed, 
or  again  in  symbol. 

Not  only  was  the  wolf  an  embodiment  of  the  wood 
spirit.  Wild  birds  also  took  upon  themselves  a 
mystic  importance  in  the  eyes  of  the  Roman. 
We  find  them,  and  especially  the  woodpecker, 
associated  with  the  wolf.  The  woodpecker  helped 
the  wolf  to  rear  the  twins,  Romulus  and  Remus, 
by  bringing  berries  and  dropping  them  into  the 
mouths  of  the  infants.  Later  writers,  wishing 
perhaps,  to  explain  this  connection,  said  that 
Faunus  was  the  son  of  Picus.  (We  may  notice 
that  one  form  of  the  legend  gives  Faustulus  as  the 
name  of  the  foster  father  of  the  boys).  Nigidius 
was  not  very  far  wrong  when  he  said  that  the  union 
of  the  two  in  the  legend  was  because  they  were  both 
natives  of  the  wood.  "  Where  the  woodpecker  makes 
its  appearance,  namely,  in  mountainous  and  wooded 
districts,  there  wolves  come  also."  While  the  faun 
has  many  sides  to  his  character,  it  is  the  chief  and 
almost  the  only  occupation  of  the  woodpecker  to 
give  omens.  They  come  together  in  this  capacity 
in  a  legend  about  Numa,  to  which  reference  has 
already  been  made.  The  faun  and  the  woodpecker 
used  to  resort  to  a  fountain  on  the  Aventine  to  drink. 
Numa,  on  the  advice  of  the  fountain  spirit,  Egeria, 
poured  wine  into  the  spring.  When  the  wood  spirits 
came,  they   drank   and    were   overcome   with   wine. 


n6        THE   WORSHIP   OF   THE   ROMANS 

Numa  laid  hold  on  them  and  kept  them  fast,  although 
they  turned  themselves  into  all  manner  of  shapes. 
In  return  for  their  release,  they  told  him  many  things 
that  were  about  to  happen,  and  also  a  charm  against 
thunderbolts,  which  was  in  use  in  the  time  of  Plutarch. 
This  powerful  charm  was  made  up  of  onions,  hair, 
and  the  heads  of  sprats.1 

Usages  and  beliefs  which  relate  to  the  life  of  the 
crops  and  the  herds,  change  their  character  somewhat 
when  they  are  transferred  to  the  atmosphere  of  the 
city.  The  townsman  is  not  vividly  conscions  of  their 
practical  bearings.  He  has  recourse  to  the  wood 
spirits  for  other  purposes.  They  can  help  him,  as 
they  helped  Numa,  by  indicating  the  future.  It  is 
also  true,  of  course,  that  the  prophetic  indications 
afforded  by  birds  are  useful  to  the  farmer.  The 
cries  of  certain  species  are  said  to  change  more  or 
less  in  accordance  with  the  weather.  "The  ancient 
generations  of  the  crows  and  of  the  flocks  of  ravens 
were  said  to  summon  the  rain  and  the  water,  and 
sometimes  to  call  the  winds  and  the  breezes." 

The  cuckoo  has  a  reputation  for  prophetic  lore 
in  England,  which  extends  beyond  his  being  the 
harbinger  of  spring.  In  Italy,  also,  birds  were 
useful  in  indicating  the  future,  to  others  than  the 
farmer.  The  crow  brought  good  luck  to  the  Roman 
when  it  appeared  on  the  left,  the  raven  when  it 
appeared  on  the  right.     The  slave  in  Plautus  rejoices 

1  Plut.  R,  Q,  21.    Am.  vii.  48.     Plut.  A'uma,  15. 


NATURE   WORSHIP  117 

in  the  good  omen,  when  he  sees  the  woodpecker  and 
the  crow  on  his  left,  the  raven  and  the  screech  owl 
on  his  right.  But  when  the  woodpecker  begins  to 
tap  the  elm,  he  interprets  it  a  token  of  the  beating 
which  is  in  store  for  him.  When  the  raven  was 
seen  on  the  left,  when  it  tapped  the  earth  once  with 
its  claws,  it  made  the  heart  of  the  passer-by  to  jump 
within  his  breast.  A  woman  once  sought  relief  from 
a  board  of  guardians  on  the  plea  of  "  grief,"  brought 
on  by  a  croaking  raven  flying  over  her  cottage.  She 
was  so  frightened  by  this  as  to  become  incapable  of 
work.  In  English  folklore  the  owl  brings  bad 
tidings,  as  it  does  in  modern  Greece.  "  Two  spectral 
owls,  of  immense  size,  settle  on  the  battlements  of 
Wardour  Castle,  Wiltshire,  when  any  member  of  the 
Arundel  family  is  about  to  die."  1 

Birds  of  carrion  haunted  the  burial  ground  on  the 
slopes  of  the  Esquiline.  The  vulture,  which  was 
known  to  feed  on  the  bodies  of  the  dead,  was  a  bird 
of  bad  omen,  according  to  Silius.  By  a  familiar  idea 
the  soul  of  the  dead  was  thought  to  pass  into  the 
creature  that  ate  the  body,  and  so  we  may  account  in 
part  for  the  prophetic  meaning  of  the  vulture. 

Upon  this  basis  of  more  or  less  natural  ideas,  the 
Roman  soothsayers  built  up  an  elaborate  system  of 
birdlore,  to  which  we  shall  return  later. 

There  is  scarcely  a  more  beautiful  thing  in  the 
world   than   water   welling   up  from  the   side   of   a 

1  Plaut.  Asin.  ii.  sc.  1.    Aulul.  iv.  sc.  iii.    Lucr.  v.  1082. 


n8        THE   WORSHIP   OF   THE   ROMANS 

hill,  or  under  the  trees  in  a  wood.  There  is  a 
delightful  little  spring  on  the  green  slope  between 
Mapperley  and  Arnold.  The  passers-by  show  their 
susceptibility  to  its  charms  by  throwing  brick  ends 
and  other  rubbish  into  it.  If  they  had  lived  in 
Cicero's  time,  they  would  have  felt  the  desecration 
involved  in  this  wantonness.  If  we  feel  this  sanctity 
of  water  under  a  northern  sky  we  can  understand 
how,  in  Italy,  where  the  sun  is  so  much  stronger,  the 
spring,  with  its  living  waters,  seemed  to  embody 
some  magical  or  divine  life.  The  same  tendency  of 
mind  which  derived  the  life  of  the  trees  from  tree 
spirits,  referred  also  the  motion  of  water  to  spirits 
of  the  spring  and  river.  I  was  walking  with  a 
companion,  one  evening  a  short  time  since,  near  the 
stream  which  flows  down  St.  John's  Vale.  We 
thought  we  heard  voices,  as  of  some  people  on  the 
other  side  of  the  river.  On  listening  more  carefully, 
the  voices  were  resolved  into  the  murmur  of  the 
water,  as  it  flowed  along  its  stony  channel.  Such 
experiences  might  give  rise  easily  to  a  belief  in  water 
spirits. 

Compared  with  these  primitive  worships,  the  cults 
of  particular  deities — Jupiter,  Mars,  Diana — seem 
like  modern  innovations ;  and  in  their  varied  sanctu- 
aries they  are  found  to  be  accompanied  by  these 
more  ancient  local  figures.  Jupiter  shared  his  home 
on  the  Capitol  with  Terminus.  It  was  the  same  in 
another   sacred    place    to   which    the    Romans    had 


NATURE   WORSHIP 


ng 


frequent  recourse.  Diana  of  the  Grove,  nemorensisy 
was  worshipped  side  by  side  with  a  fountain  spirit. 

The  lake  of  Nemi  lies  about  sixteen  miles  from 
Rome,  to  the  east.  It  fills  an  ancient  crater,  the 
sides  of  which  rise  above  it  to  the  height  of  about 
three  hundred  feet.  The  wooded  cliffs  descend 
immediately  into  the  water,  except  on  the  side  near 
Genzano,  where  they  slope  more  gently  and  are 
planted  with  vines.  Seen  from  Nemi,  the  little  town 
which  is  situated  at  the  north  of  the  lake,  the  water 
seems  to  reflect  the  sky  like  glass,  and  was  called  the 
Mirror  of  Diana,  speculum  Dianae.  Lord  Savile 
began  his  excavations  at  a  place  known  as  "the 
garden  of  the  lake,"  near  the  foot  of  the  precip- 
itous hill  on  which  the  town  and  castle  stand.  The 
first  trench  that  was  opened,  showed  that  this  was 
the  site  of  the  temple  of  Diana.  The  building  lay 
north  and  south  in  a  great  oblong  enclosure.  On 
the  north,  under  the  steep  cliff,  there  was  a  great 
retaining  wall.  While,  on  the  south,  another  great 
wall,  seven  hundred  feet  long  and  thirty  feet  high, 
ran  along  the  edge  of  the  lake.  Here  the  waters  of 
the  lake  lapped  on  angular  buttresses.1 

The  lake  receives  its  supplies,  in  great  part,  from 
the  stream  which  flows  by  Nemi.  The  fountain  of 
Egeria  springs  from  the  rocky  amphitheatre  which 
overhangs  the  temple.  The  grove  also  was  sacred  to 
her.     In  order  to  explain  the  position  of  the  temple 

1  Wallis,  Catalogue  Castle  A/us.  Nottinghami  pref. 


i2o        THE   WORSHIP   OF   THE   ROMANS 

of  Diana,  in  the  grove  and  by  the  fountain  of 
Egeria,  the  nymph  was  said  to  have  been  the 
priestess  of  the  goddess. 

The  baths  were  opposite  to  the  north-west  corner 
of  the  temple,  and  were  supplied  with  water  from  the 
sacred  fountain.  An  inscription  has  been  found, 
engraved  on  part  of  a  marble  column,  which  re- 
cords the  gift  of  lead  pipes,  and  of  four  basins, 
apparently  as  a  votive  offering.  Of  the  votive 
offerings  that  were  found  here,  some  at  least  must 
have  been  in  acknowledgment  of  benefits  received 
from  the  use  of  the  waters.  Pliny  gives  a  list  of  the 
ailments  for  which  the  springs  of  his  time  were  useful. 
They  are  valuable,  he  declares,  for  the  sinews  of  the 
feet  and  hips.  They  aid  digestion  and,  further,  the 
healing  of  wounds.  Some  are  specially  helpful  to 
the  head,  the  ears  or  the  eyes ;  the  Romans  suffering 
much  from  weak  eyes.  Among  the  votive  offerings 
from  Nemi  are  terra  cotta  representations  of  the  eyes 
and  ears,  or  of  arms  and  legs.  One  represents  the 
draped  figure  of  a  woman  with  the  viscera  laid  bare ; 
this  was  probably  a  thankoffering  for  relief  from  some 
internal  complaint.  At  the  present  time  miracles  of 
healing  are  alleged  to  be  of  constant  occurrence  at 
the  spring  of  St.  Winifred,  Holywell,  and  are  referred 
by  many  to  the  intercession  of  the  saint.  Pliny, 
indeed,  might  attribute  the  cures  of  which  he  speaks 
to  the  properties  of  the  water.  But  most  of  his  con- 
temporaries would  regard  them  as  due  to  the  spirits 


NATURE   WORSHIP  121 

of  the  springs.  In  the  monastery  church  of  Daphni, 
near  Athens,  the  icon  of  Mary  is  covered  with  small 
representations  of  eyes  or  limbs  in  silver  and  less 
precious  materials.  Like  these,  the  offerings  to 
Diana  recorded  the  gratitude  of  her  worshippers  for 
good  received. 

Outside  the  Porta  Capena  at  Rome  there  was 
another  grove  sacred  to  Egeria.  It  lay  not  far 
from  the  gate  on  the  left  of  the  Appian  Road,  the 
traffic  of  which  could  be  heard  in  the  grove.  The 
well  still  flows  near  the  Villa  Fonseca,  and  the  tradi- 
tion of  its  healing  powers  lived  on  through  the  middle 
ages.  The  spirit  of  the  well  was  said  to  have 
instructed  Numa  by  night  as  to  the  worship  which 
should  be  rendered  to  the  god.  According  to  one 
legend,  Faunus  and  Picus  did  not  themselves  tell 
Numa  the  charm  against  thunderbolts,  of  which  men- 
tion has  been  made.  They  drew  down  Jupiter,  the  god 
of  thunder,  from  heaven  by  their  magic.  When  the 
king  of  the  gods  appeared,  the  earthly  king  almost 
lost  his  senses  in  terror.  But  he  was  inspired  by 
Egeria,  and  asked  that  he  might  be  taught  the  charm 
against  thunderbolts.  Jupiter  began  by  declaring 
that  the  charm  must  be  made  with  heads  —  "Yes, 
of  onions,"  interrupted  Numa.  Jupiter  went  on 
"with  men's"— "Hair,"  said  Numa.  "And  with 
living,"  —  said  Jupiter.  "  Sprats,"  said  Numa. 
Plutarch  remarks  that  this  fabulous  and  absurd  story 
illustrates  the  disposition  of  the  men  of  that  time 


122        THE   WORSHIP   OF   THE   ROMANS 

towards  religion.  Certainly  we  miss  in  Roman  folk- 
lore the  comedy  and  even  vulgarity  that  distinguish 
some  of  our  English  fairy  tales.  But  this  may  be 
due  to  the  channels  along  which  it  has  come  down 
to  us.  When  fairyland  is  put  under  a  system, 
laughter  ceases  to  be  heard  there.  We  can  just 
catch  echoes  of  it  in  Ovid.  But  Varro,  and  Cicero, 
and  Livy  take  all  the  old  tales  too  seriously,  and 
when  they  have  passed  through  such  hands  their 
brightness  is  gone.1 

Numa  is  said  to  have  dedicated  the  place  in  which 
he  met  Egeria,  and  the  adjacent  fields,  to  the  water 
spirit  and  her  sisters,  the  singing  maidens,  camenae. 

Once  there  was  a  plague  in  the  city.  In  the  midst 
of  the  public  distress,  a  bronze  shield  fell  from  heaven 
one  day  at  the  feet  of  Numa.  On  the  advice  of  the 
singing  sisters,  he  had  eleven  other  shields  made 
exactly  like  it,  so  that  any  one  who  wished  to  steal 
it  might  be  uncertain  which  to  take.  For  the  safety 
of  the  city  was  bound  up  with  the  shield.  The 
twelve  shields  were  then  put  in  the  temple  of  Mars. 
After  this  the  disease  was  stayed.  Here  again  we 
find  the  water  spirits  helping  to  avert  pestilence. 

It  was  from  their  spring  that  the  vestal  virgins 
fetched  water  every  day  for  the  cleansing  of  the 
regia,  the  house  of  the  king.2 

It  has  been  suggested  with  great  likelihood  that 

1  Plut.  Numa,  15. 

-  Ov  Fast.  iii.  357  ff.     Plut.  Numa,  13. 


NATURE   WORSHIP  123 

Evander  answers  in  Greek  to  the  Latin  Faunus,  the 
favouring  spirit.  We  are  told  that  Evander  was  the 
son  of  Carmenta.  She  was  a  fountain  spirit  gifted 
with  prophecy.  Her  altar  was  near  the  Carmental 
eate,  which  was  named  after  her.  She  is  said  to  have 
given  advice  to  Evander  in  oracles  expressed  in 
verse.  Just  as  the  Muses  of  Greece,  who  also  were 
fountain  spirits,  were  thought  to  be  the  source  of  the 
wisdom  of  Greek  poets,  so  the  Roman  kings  had 
recourse  to  the  singing  maidens  who  haunted  their 
springs.  In  the  excitement  of  worship,  Carmenta 
was  said  to  have  lost  her  reason.  Indeed,  the  name 
lympkatus,  possessed  by  a  fountain  spirit,  was  applied 
to  those  who  were  bereft  of  reason.  On  the  other 
hand  some  waters,  such  as  those  of  Sinuessa,  took 
away  insanity.1 

Other  waters  were  thought  to  be  a  cure  for  barren- 
ness. Hence  we  can  understand  why  Carmenta  was 
thought  to  watch  over  the  birth  of  children.  Her 
festival  was  celebrated  by  the  matrons  of  Rome  on 
the  fifteenth  of  January. 

While  Evander  was  the  son  of  one  fountain  spirit, 
he  was  the  husband  of  another.  Her  name  was 
Marica,  a  fountain  spirit  of  Laurentum.  These  stories 
about  Evander  have  their  root  in  the  popular  belief 
that  the  woods  and  springs  were  haunted  by  fauns 
and  nymphs,  and  express  the  belief  with  trans- 
parency. 

1  Liv.  i.  7.    Am.  vii.  47 ;  viii.  339.    Plin.  N.  H.  xxxi.  8. 


i24        THE   WORSHIP   OF   THE   ROMANS 

The  nymphs  were  thought  to  be  able  to  harm.  In 
the  curious  curses  which  have  been  found  written 
upon  strips  of  lead,  they  are  called  upon  sometimes 
to  destroy  a  hated  individual  in  the  course  of  the 
year.  On  the  other  hand  the  Roman  farmer  invoked 
the  water  spirit  along  with  Good  Luck.  The  super- 
stitious Italians  still  drink  of  the  Fontana  di  Trevi 
when  they  leave  Rome,  and  throw  a  coin  into  the 
basin.  They  think  that  by  this  their  safe  return 
home  is  made  certain. 

The  feast  of  fountains,  fontanalia,  was  held  on 
October  the  thirteenth.  Garlands  were  thrown  into 
the  springs,  and  the  wells  were  crowned.  In  addition 
to  the  flowers,  offerings  of  wine  were  made,  and  a  kid 
was  sacrificed.  Numa,  it  was  said,  offered  wine  and 
a  sheep  to  the  Fountain,  on  the  celebrated  occasion  of 
his  interview  with  Jupiter.  When  the  trees  in  the 
sacred  grove  were  struck  by  lightning,  the  Brethren 
of  the  Field,  among  their  other  offerings,  slaughtered 
two  wethers  in  the  name  of  the  Fountain.  Not  so 
many  years  ago  the  wells  at  Tissington,  in  Derby- 
shire, used  to  be  decorated  on  Holy  Thursday,  with 
boughs  of  trees,  tulips,  and  so  forth,  and  after  the 
prayers  for  the  day  were  over,  the  parson  and  the 
choir  used  to  pray  and  to  sing  Psalms  at  the  well. 

"  In  the  prayers  of  the  augurs,"  says  Cicero,  *  we 
see  Tiberinus,  Spino,  Almo,  Nodinus,  and  the  names 
of  other  streams."  But  the  Romans  do  not  seem  to 
have  formed  any  very  lively  idea  of  their  river  gods, 


NATURE  WORSHIP  125 

not  even  of  the  Tiber.  Virgil  speaks  of  Tiberinus 
simply  as  the  spirit  of  the  spot,  dens  loci,  who 
appeared  to  Aeneas  as  he  slumbered  on  the  bank. 
He  rose  amid  the  poplars — there  are  great  woods 
still  along  the  Tiber — clothed  in  a  dark  blue  cloak 
of  fine  linen,  and  a  bonnet  of  reeds.  But  the  god 
did  not  leave  his  river,  and  no  legends  seem  to  have 
gathered  round  his  name.  When  we  are  told  of  the 
bull-shaped  Aufidus,  we  must  put  this  idea  of  the 
river  spirit's  form  down  to  Greek  influences.  It 
has  been  suggested  that  the  famous  group  of  the 
wolf  and  the  twins,  which  is  in  the  Capitoline 
Museum,  represents  the  Tiber,  but  this  suggestion 
is  not,  as  far  as  I  know,  supported  by  external 
evidence.1 

An  interesting  bust  of  marble,  double  like  the  head 
of  Janus,  was  found  in  the  excavations  of  Nemi.  It 
seems  to  portray  two  water  spirits.  They  have  scales 
on  their  cheeks,  and  the  leaves  of  water  plants  cover 
their  neck  and  chest.  Fins  rise  from  their  foreheads 
and  almost  look  like  horns.  One  face  is  that  of 
a  young  beardless  man  with  small  fins  at  the  side 
of  his  mouth,  while  the  other  is  that  of  an  elderly 
man  with  beard  and  moustache.  The  eyebrows  are 
arched.  Their  expression  is  of  a  certain  sadness, 
as  though  their  prophetic  power  was  a  burden  to 
them.  We  may,  perhaps,  see  in  them  the  indwelling 
spirits  of  the  lakes  of  Albano  and  Nemi.     The  type 

1  Cic.  Ar.  D.  iii.  52.    Am.  viii.  32. 


126        THE   WORSHIP   OF   THE   ROMANS 

of  the  younger  face  is  not  unlike  that  of  the  head 
of  a  river  god  at  Vienna,  although  the  Nemi  example 
is  characterised  by  much  more  grace  and  delicacy.1 

Mr.  Jevons  explains  the  peculiarities  in  the  worship 
of  Hercules,  by  identifying  him  with  the  Greek 
Heracles,  and  supposes  that  the  genius  of  the 
Roman  took  the  shape  of  the  foreign  deity.  But 
is  there  any  adequate  reason  for  supposing  that 
the  worship  of  Hercules  was  adventitious  ?  It  was 
associated  with  traditional  customs,  to  all  appearances, 
of  great  antiquity.  Women  were  not  allowed  to  par- 
take of  the  flesh  of  the  victims  offered  at  the  Great 
Altar.  Boys  went  out  of  doors  to  swear  by  him.  If 
we  may  accept  the  account  of  Tacitus,  the  Great  Altar 
was  included  within  the  walls  of  the  city  on  the 
Palatine.  It  is  difficult  to  believe  that  the  influence 
of  the  Greeks  was  great  enough  at  this  early  date  to 
bring  in  a  new  deity.  Although  the  Roman  worship 
may  not  be  derived  from  Greek  sources,  it  is  unlikely 
that  the  likeness  of  Heracles  and  Hercules  is  simply 
casual.  It  would  seem  that  Heracles  or  Hercules  is 
one  of  those  figures  which  were  sacred  to  the  common 
ancestors  of  the  Greeks  and  Romans. 

Who,  then,  was  Hercules  ?  Perhaps  this  is  one  of 
those  questions  which  will  always  invite  to  guessing. 
There  are,  however,  some  reasons  which  lead  one 
to  believe  that  Hercules  was  either  one  of  the 
fountain  spirits,  or  closely  connected  with  them.  He 
1  Baum.  Denkmaler,  p.  570. 


NATURE   WORSHIP  127 

was  worshipped  along  with  the  muses,  and  although 
we  may  trace  this  cult  to  foreign  influence,  there  are 
other  evidences  from  which  we  might  expect  him  to 
be  found  in  the  company  of  the  singing  spirits,  muses, 
or  camenae,  who  inhabit  the  springs.  In  this  way  he 
helps  us  to  understand,  what  otherwise  might  seem 
strange,  the  fact  that  his  Greek  cousin  was  wor- 
shipped along  with  such  unexpected  company. 

The  Romans  found  many  resemblances  between 
him  and  the  Phoenician  Baal.  There  was  a  fountain 
of  Hercules  at  Caere.  This  may  have  been  dedi- 
cated by  the  Phoenician  settlers  to  Baal,  as  the 
lord  of  the  waters  that  come  up  from  the  land. 
It  is  curious  that  neither  flies  nor  dogs,  according 
to  popular  belief,  would  enter  the  temple  of  Hercules 
in  the  Roman  cattle  market.  Tithes,  too,  were  paid 
to  him  as  to  Baal. 

One  of  the  few  popular  legends  of  Rome  that  have 
come  down  to  us,  is  told  of  Hercules,  and,  I  think,  it 
confirms  what  we  might  infer  from  his  likeness  to 
Baal.  When  the  young  Roman  asked  his  father 
concerning  the  sacrifices  at  the  Great  Altar,  we 
might  suppose  him  to  have  the  following  tale  told 
him  for  explanation  : — 

"Once  upon  a  time  there  lived  on  the  Aventine 
a  giant  named  Cacus,  and  he  used  to  be  a  terror 
to  all  the  country  round.  You  could  always  see 
blood  in  front  of  the  cave,  and  there  were  men's 
heads  hanging  over  the  doorway.     One  day  Hercules 


128        THE   WORSHIP   OF   THE   ROMANS 

was  driving  his  cattle  by,  and  the  giant  took  four 
bulls  and  four  cows  and  led  them  to  the  cave.  In 
order  that  they  might  not  be  traced,  he  dragged 
them  by  their  tails,  and  so  their  tracks  seemed  to 
point  away  from  the  cave  and  not  towards  it.  But 
Hercules  found  him  out  by  the  bellowing  of  the 
stolen  cattle.  He  was  filled  with  anger,  and  hastened 
to  the  place  from  which  the  sound  seemed  to  come. 
Cacus  was  frightened,  and  put  a  huge  stone  in  front 
of  the  entrance,  which  Hercules  could  not  move. 
However  the  hero  pulled  down  a  rock  further  on, 
which  overhung  the  stream,  and  laid  all  the  side  of 
the  cave  to  view.  A  great  fight  followed,  in  which 
Hercules  came  off  best  and  killed  the  giant.  In 
gratitude  for  their  deliverance  from  the  giant,  the 
country  people  established  sacrifices  to  Hercules  at 
the  Great  Altar." 

There  is  an  old  Latin  word  for  patrimony,  herctum, 
with  which  the  name  of  the  hero  seems  to  be  con- 
nected. Hercules  would  then  be  the  spirit  of  the 
enclosure,  genius  of  the  farmyard,  as  Mommsen  calls 
him.     Hence  his  altar  is  near  the  cattle  market.1 

Cacus  was  a  fire  spirit.  Virgil  calls  him  the  son  of 
Vulcan.  The  story  then  presents  to  us  a  conflict  of 
the  guardian  of  the  cattle  with  a  fire  monster. 

1  Jevons,  Intro.  R.  Q.  p.  li.    Tac.  Ann.  xii.  24.    Plin.  AT.  II.  x.   79. 
Liv.  i.  7. 


PRIMITIVE    THOUGHT 


A  GREAT  gulf  is  put  between  each  human  being 
and  his  fellows,  so  that  the  life  of  the  individual 
runs  its  own  particular  course.  Yet  all  lives  are  cast 
n  one  common  mould.  "  The  affections  of  the  soul," 
>ays  Aristotle,  "are  the  same  in  all."1  This  holds 
rom  age  to  age,  as  well  as  from  race  to  race  in  the 
^resent.  The  comparative  method,  as  applied  in 
listorical  research,  is  based  upon  this  fact ;  that 
)ur  common  nature  manifests  itself  in  like  ways 
inder  like  circumstances.  By  comparing  the  prac- 
ices  and  beliefs  of  different  peoples  and  different 
Lges,  we  find  them  to  present  certain  broad  resem- 
)lances.  Where  one  set  of  records  is  imperfect, 
ve  can  sometimes  fill  up  the  gaps  by  reference  to 
he  fuller  accounts  of  another  set.  In  this  way 
trange  customs  need  be  no  longer  considered  in 
heir  isolation,  but  are  explained  by  the  beliefs  which 
Lre  found  elsewhere  to  underlie  similar  customs. 
\cts,  which  seem  at  first  sight  intrinsically  absurd 
>r  repulsive,  gain  a  show  of  reasonableness,  when 
ve  thus  succeed  in  realising  the  point  of   view  at 

1  de  Interpret,  i.  3. 

I 


i3o        THE   WORSHIP   OF   THE   ROMANS 

which  they  are  done.  The  most  primitive  elements 
of  the  Roman  religion,  as  of  contemporary  savage 
religions,  the  folklore  of  our  countrymen,  or  the 
ideas  and  rites  of  the  cruder  forms  of  spiritualism, 
rest  upon  a  theory  of  life  and  of  the  world,  which 
to  a  certain  extent  is  consistent  with  itself,  and 
explains,  more  or  less,  the  occurrences  to  which 
it  is  applied.  This  primitive  philosophy,  the  root 
(and  sometimes  the  branches  as  well)  of  other 
philosophies,  we  will  attempt  to  consider.  Though 
we  direct  our  attention  mainly  to  the  Romans,  this 
will  not  prevent  us  from  tracing  the  outlines,  of  what 
seems  to  be  almost  a  necessary  stage  in  the  unfolding 
of  the  human  mind. 

Bacon  caught,  in  the  Greek  legends,  "  a  soft  whisper 
from  the  traditions  of  more  ancient  nations  conveyed 
through  the  flutes  of  the  Grecians."  Vico  believed 
that  the  early  Romans  learnt  a  profound  philosophy 
from  their  neighbours  to  the  north  and  to  the  south.1 
It  is  agreeable  to  think  that  there  was  an  ancient 
body  of  doctrine  indigenous  to  Rome,  which  will 
account  satisfactorily  for  the  traces  of  primitive 
wisdom  which  Vico  found.  There  was  then,  however, 
no  synthetic  philosopher  ready  to  erect  an  imposing 
structure  out  of  the  science  of  his  contemporaries. 
Such  a  duty  has  fallen  upon  these  later  times,  and 
has  been  undertaken  with  great  spirit  and  some 
success  by  the  students  of   folklore.      Whether  our 

1  Adv.  Learn,  ii.  c.  13.     Flint,  Vico.  S5. 


PRIMITIVE   THOUGHT  131 

modern  knowledge  is  to  be  regarded  as  a  degenera- 
tion from  the  ancient,  will  shortly  appear. 

The  first  principle  of  primitive  philosophy  is  that 
each  occurrence  has  one  cause.  It  employs  a  logic, 
the  lines  of  which  are  not  parallel  to  modern 
methods.  It  is  not  troubled  with  the  plurality  of 
causes.  Latium  was  at  one  with  our  English 
Arcadians  in  this.  "That's  a  large  question/'  the 
Rev.  Augustus  Jessopp  began  on  one  occasion,  and 
was  proceeding  to  explain  further  when  surly  Bob 
broke  in  fiercely,  "  There  you  are  again  with  your 
large  questions.  I  Ve  heerd  that  lots  o'  times  when 
I  want  to  knaw  the  reason  why.  You  keep  talkin' 
o'  causes  when  there  aint  ony  one  cause  for  one 
thing."  This  old  art  of  reasoning  is  not  confined  to 
Arcady.  The  Arcadian  wanders  forth,  and  takes 
his  wisdom  with  him.  He  is  great  in  politics.  He 
can  refer  all  the  ills  of  national  life  to  some  single 
circumstance.  "  Give  me  some  single  reform,  and 
all  will  be  well."  He  was  once  as  triumphant  in 
medicine  as  he  is  still  in  politics.  But  the  advance 
of  science  has  given  such  an  unfair  advantage  to  the 
professional  physician  that  the  amateur  is  beginning 
to  decline  the  contest.  The  day  of  the  quack  is 
setting.  Medicine,  once  the  happy  hunting  ground 
of  the  discursive  reason,  is  being  cultivated  bit  by 
bit ;  and  its  main  thoroughfares  are  beginning  to  be 
staked  out.  Even  the  wayfaring  man  can  see  that 
the  Arcadian  is  somewhat  out  of  place  here.      On 


i32        THE  WORSHIP   OF  THE   ROMANS 

the  old  theories  we  have  only  to  find  out  one  cause, 
say  the  incantations  of  a  witch,  or  the  influence 
of  an  evil  star,  in  order  to  account  satisfactorily  for  a 
disease,  while  we  may  leave  out  of  account  such 
trifles  as  the  constitution,  history,  diet,  and  surround- 
ings of  the  patient.  Not  only  is  the  diagnosis  of 
the  case  simplified  ;  the  finding  of  the  cure  is  not 
less  so.  Just  as  that  which  brings  the  ailment  is  one, 
so  is  that  which  will  take  it  away.  We  may  be  sure 
that  there  is  some  single  drug,  or  some  form  of 
words  which  will  do  this.  Yet  a  feeling  of  superi- 
ority is  out  of  place,  even  in  presence  of  primitive 
thought.  We  are  all  Arcadians,  more  or  less.  The 
only  danger  is  that  we  may  be  in  Arcadia  and  not 
know  it. 

Arcadia  has  a  further  advantage  over  other 
countries.  Not  only  is  it  quite  sure,  to  begin  with, 
that  there  is  only  one  cause  for  one  effect.  What  is 
more,  there  is  always  some  one  to  hand  who  can 
point  it  out.  Suppose,  for  instance,  that  you  want  to 
cure  the  liquor  habit.  Pliny  says  that  the  eggs  of  a 
screech  owl  given  in  wine  for  three  days,  will  produce 
a  distaste  for  wine.     This  sounds  rather  likely. 

In  the  same  way,  when  we  pass  from  the  ailments 
of  the  individual  to  those  of  the  body  politic,  it  is 
desirable  to  find  out  from  some  one  who  knows,  what 
precisely  will  bring  back  the  normal  and  healthy 
condition.  In  the  year  364  B.C.,  Rome  suffered 
under  a  terrible  pestilence.     Other  means  of  allaying 


PRIMITIVE   THOUGHT  133 

it  were  tried  in  vain.  Theatrical  performances  were 
given  for  the  first  time,  but  without  effect.  Happily 
it  was  remembered  that  a  previous  pestilence  abated 
when  the  Dictator  drove  a  nail  into  the  right  hand 
wall  of  the  great  temple  of  the  Capitol.  The  expe- 
dient was  decided  upon.1  We  are  not  told  with  what 
measure  of  success.  After  the  battle  of  Cannae,  the 
terrified  Romans  found  a  remedy  for  their  misfortunes 
by  burying  alive,  in  the  cattle  market,  two  Greeks 
and  two  Gauls.  This  savage  expedient  was  enjoined 
on  them  by  their  books  of  destiny.  We  may 
suppose  that  they  had  recourse  to  written  records 
when  their  living  oracles  were  discredited. 

Arcadia  is  very  contemptuous  of  persons  whom  it 
calls  materialists.  If  there  is  anything  about  which 
it  is  proud,  it  is  its  belief  in  spirits.  There  is  no  need 
to  search  all  the  realms  of  existence  for  the  causes  of 
good  or  ill  fortune.  Arcadia  looks  for  the  ghost.  In 
fact  it  is  a  Psychical  Research  Society.  In  this 
Arcadia  sets  itself  no  difficult  task.  The  dead  were 
buried  at  Rome  in  the  haunts  of  the  living.  Their 
spirits  were  always  present,  and  explained  nearly 
everything  that  could  not  be  put  down  to  obvious 
causes.  If  anything  went  wrong,  it  was  because 
some  one  had  not  received  the  due  funeral  rites,  or 
because  offerings  of  wine,  and  cakes,  and  flowers  had 
not  been  made  at  the  tombs  of  the  elders. 

We  have  already  seen  that  disease  and  death  were 

1  Liv.  vii.  3. 


i34        THE   WORSHIP   OF   THE   ROMANS 

attributed  to  the  restless  spirits  of  the  departed, 
rather  than  to  special  disease  spirits.  We  may 
assume  that  this  is  the  more  primitive  form  of  the 
belief  in  the  action  of  spirits.  It  is  only  at  a  later 
time  that  special  agents  are  assigned  to  the  conduct 
of  each  kind  of  action,  or  of  each  corner  of  the 
natural  world. 

This  later  belief  took  a  very  striking  form  at 
Rome.  Every  single  action  was  thought  to  be  under 
the  care  of  a  spirit.  By  invoking  it,  the  due 
performance  of  the  action  was  ensured.  The  names 
of  such  spirits  were  enrolled  upon  lists,  indigitamenta. 
These  set  forth  the  different  series  of  acts  which  it 
falls  to  man  to  perform  in  his  passage  through  life, 
and  particularly,  as  we  might  have  expected  in  a 
people  of  farmers,  the  operations  of  husbandry.  The 
spirit  of  eating,  Educa,  and  of  drinking,  Potina, 
attended  the  young  child  in  its  home.  As  he  left 
the  house  the  spirits  of  departing,  Abeo?ia,  and  of 
journeying,  Iterduca,  led  him  on  his  way.  While 
the  spirits  of  approaching,  Adeona,  and  of  home- 
coming, Domiduca,  brought  him  back  again.  So  in 
farm  life,  the  spirits  of  cutting,  Intercidona,  of 
grinding,  Pilummcs,  of  sweeping,  Deverray  of  sowing, 
SatumuSy  of  pruning,  Puta,  of  beekeeping,  Mellonia> 
were  at  hand.  In  commerce,  the  spirit  of  gain, 
Mercurius,  was  accompanied  by  the  spirit  of  money, 
Pecimia;  and  the  ship  of  the  merchant  was  brought 
to  the  harbour  by  the  harbour  spirit,  Portunus.     A 


PRIMITIVE   THOUGHT  135 

few  lines  from  Plautus'  comedy,   The  Merchant,  will 
show  how  deeply  rooted  was  this  habit  of  mind. 

"  Charinus.  '  Who  calls  me  ? ' 

" Eutychus.  'Hope,  Safety,  Victory.' 

"  Charinus.  '  Why  do  you  want  me  ? ' 

"Eutychus.  'I  want  to  come  with  you.' 

"  Charinus.  l  Seek  another  companion.  My  com- 
panions will  not  let  me  go.' 

"  Eutychus.  '  Who  are  they  ? ' 

"  Charinus.  '  Care,  Misery,  Sorrow,  Weeping,  Groans.' " 

Not  only  are  there  spirits  which  help  man  in  his 
work.  There  are  others  which  bring  him  harm  and 
hindrance.  The  cautious  Roman  took  care  to  be  on 
good  terms  with  these  also.  The  priest  of  Quirinus 
celebrated  a  solemn  feast  in  honour  of  the  mildew 
spirit,  Robigo.  It  is  curious  to  find  Mr.  Ruskin 
speaking,  in  terms  that  would  have  seemed  familiar 
to  a  Roman,  of  "  the  spirit  that  throughout  the  world 
has  authority  over  rending  rottenness  and  decay." 
At  first,  reverence  was  paid  to  these  spirits  according 
to  their  power,  and  not  at  all  according  to  their  ethical 
importance.  When  the  passage  began  to  be  made  to 
this  latter  standpoint,  the  older  worships  presented 
a  stumbling-block.  Cicero  applauds  the  erection  of 
temples  to  Mind,  Piety,  Virtue,  Faith.  "We  ought," 
he  says,  "  to  consecrate  virtues,  not  vices."  Hence 
he  would  put  away  the  worship  of  the  Fever  spirit 
and  of  Evil  Fortune.1 

1  Modem  Painters,  iii.  1 1 8.     Cic.  Legg.  ii.  28. 


136        THE   WORSHIP   OF   THE   ROMANS 

This  mode  of  thought  spread  from  religion  into 
the  speculations  of  physical  science.  It  was  not 
enough  to  say  that  any  substance  was  of  such  or  such 
a  kind.  The  reason  must  be  that  it  had  certain 
"  virtues."  These  turn  out,  on  inquiry,  to  be  nothing 
more  than  abstractions. 

How  is  it  that  in  modern  times  we  are  more 
successful  in  detecting  the  relations  of  cause  and 
effect  ?  We  cannot  pride  ourselves  on  having 
made  this  progress  by  the  unaided  effort  of  the 
intellect.  As  Schopenhauer  says,  "  The  connection 
between  cause  and  effect  is  really  as  mysterious  as 
that  which  is  imagined  between  a  magic  formula  and 
the  spirit  which  must  appear  when  invoked  by  it." 
Perhaps  we  may  say  that  prejudices  of  all  kinds, 
conscious  and  unconscious,  stir  the  mind  as  it  looks 
out  upon  Nature  for  the  first  time,  and  that  it  begins 
to  see  clearly,  only  when  it  has  laid  these  prejudices 
aside.  At  first  we  must  be  in  a  receptive  mood, 
almost  passive.  Only  when  we  have  begun  to 
recognise  in  this  way  the  more  obvious  things  of 
Nature,  can  we  use  our  knowledge  as  a  stepping 
stone  to  a  further  advance. 

Again,  the  possibility  of  accurate  observation  is 
largely  determined  by  the  accuracy  of  our  instru- 
ments of  measurement.  In  the  absence  of  these, 
the  regularity  of  natural  processes  was  pressed 
home  upon  the  Romans  with  far  less  force.  Instead 
of  natural  order  being,  as  with  us,  the  standard  of 


PRIMITIVE   THOUGHT  137 

permanence  and  fixity,  it  was  thought  that  external 
changes  were  almost  impossible  to  discern  aright,  and 
that  truth  could  scarcely  be  attained  in  this  quarter. 
Some  thinkers  were  of  opinion  that  no  fact  could 
be  so  ascertained,  that  assent  to  it  was  unavoidable. 
"Accuse  Nature,"  they  said,  "who  has  hidden  truth 
in  the  abyss."1  In  fact,  the  amount  of  certainty 
which  is  attainable  in  moral  science,  was  greater  than 
the  certainty  which  seemed  then  to  be  attainable  in 
physical  science.  It  is  comprehensible,  therefore, 
that  the  causation,  which  was  found  to  hold  good 
in  human  action,  should  be  transferred  to  Nature. 
It  was  a  necessary  stage  in  the  progress  of  thought 
that  it  should  attribute  all  events,  physical  as  well 
as  moral,  to  personal  agencies. 

These  personal  agencies,  whether  they  are  the 
ghosts  of  the  dead,  or  the  spirits  of  abstract  opera- 
tions, will  feel  and  think  much  as  those  in  whose 
fancies  they  have  their  being.  We  shall  find  in  them 
a  reflection  of  their  human  creators. 

A  leading  characteristic  of  primitive  consciousness 
is  that  it  flows  in  well-worn  channels.  The  thought 
and  feeling  of  a  savage  is  conservative  to  a  degree  of 
which  we  can  scarcely  conceive.  He  is  the  bondslave 
of  innumerable  precedents,  which  determine  every 
act  and  word.  The  freedom  of  unfettered  Nature 
is  a  modern  ideal  which,  by  a  familiar  inversion, 
has  been  projected  on  to  the  past.     The  Romans 

1  Cic.  Acad.  ii.  32. 


138        THE   WORSHIP   OF   THE   ROMANS 

had  a  name  by  which  they  sanctified  the  adherence 
to  what  is  old  ;  mos  maiorum,  the  custom  of  the 
elders,  such  was  the  form  of  words  which  they 
used  as  a  charm  against  innovation.  The  emotion 
which  attended  upon  such  modes  of  life,  would  be 
very  naturally  a  dread  of  change.  This  was  the 
natural  cloak  for  that  leading  human  passion,  the 
passion  for  indolence,  for  freedom  from  intellectual 
effort.  When  this  feeling  runs  unchecked,  it  soon 
clothes  itself  in  a  philosophy,  over  which  in  turn 
it  throws  the  protection  of  religion.  In  this  way 
we  reach  a  grand  maxim  of  primitive  thought. 
What  is  7iew,  is  dangerous.  More  than  this,  the 
spirits  are  offended  by  it.  So,  at  least,  the  priestly 
records  affirmed  ;  but  that  was  perhaps  merely 
another  way  of  saying  that  their  authors  did  not 
look  kindly  upon  change.  The  Potitii,  who  had 
an  ancestral  worship  at  the  Great  Altar,  handed 
over  their  duty  to  the  public  slaves.  "The  con- 
sequence of  this  innovation  deserves  notice,"  says 
Livy,  "and  should  be  a  warning  against  making 
changes  in  religion.  The  whole  family  of  the 
Potitii  was  blotted  out  within  a  short  time,  and 
the  vengeance  of  heaven  was  visited  upon  the 
censor  Appius,  upon  whose  advice  they  had  acted. 
A  few  years  after,  he  lost  his  sight."1  And,  generally, 
if  other  explanations  failed,  it  was  possible  to  refer 
public  calamities  to  some  alteration  that  had  taken 

1  Livy,  ix.  29. 


PRIMITIVE   THOUGHT  139 

place  in  the  national  customs  ;  some  deviation  from 
that  which  was  sanctioned  by  the  practice  of 
antiquity.  When  the  monarchy  was  abolished  in 
fact,  provision  was  made  for  its  continuance  in 
name.  There  was  still  a  king ;  but  for  religious 
purposes  only,  rex  sacrorum.  By  this  means  the 
State  continued,  it  was  hoped,  to  retain  all  the 
advantages  that  flowed  from  the  old  institution. 
This  aversion  to  change  was  naturally  strongest  in 
those  classes  whose  interest  was  bound  up  in  the 
existing  order  of  things.  Here  they  came  into 
conflict  with  the  feelings  of  the  newcomers  from 
neighbouring  districts,  and,  indeed,  with  the  large 
floating  population  of  Rome. 

Men  for  whom  the  existing  order  has  no  emotional 
impressiveness,  who  are  not  in  touch  with  the  senti- 
ments which  cast  a  glamour  over  it,  for  whom, 
therefore,  the  religion  of  the  State  is  formal  in 
the  main;  to  them  what  is  new  appeals  with 
strange  promise.  Ordinarily  the  conservative  forces 
were  powerful  enough  to  keep  these  elements  in 
check.  And  the  Roman  Government,  when  it  dared, 
came  down  with  a  heavy  hand  on  the  religious 
revolutionary.  In  times  of  national  affliction  and 
of  peril,  things  were  different.  Regular  agencies 
for  securing  the  divine  favour  were  discredited. 
The  revolutionaries  were  reinforced  by  the  more 
timorous  and  superstitious  of  the  general  body  of 
citizens,  and  the  Government  was  compelled  to  yield. 


i4o        THE   WORSHIP   OF   THE   ROMANS 

The  new  was  no  longer  viewed  with  suspicion.  It 
was  rather  welcomed.  The  history  of  Roman  re- 
ligion is,  largely,  a  history  of  changes  brought  about 
in  this  manner.  In  the  second  Punic  war  sacred 
games  in  honour  of  Apollo  were  established,  at  the 
bidding  of  a  famous  prophet  named  Marcius.  This 
was  in  212,  B.C.  Seven  years  afterwards  the  excited 
populace  sought  consolation  still  further  afield,  and 
fetched  the  Mighty  Mother  from  Asia.  We  may 
suspect  that  the  administration  yielded  reluctantly 
to  these  popular  movements.  In  the  year  213 
foreign  objects  of  worship  were  brought  in,  and 
were  venerated  with  such  superstitious  enthusiasm 
that,  says  Livy,  "either  the  nation  or  its  deities 
seemed  to  have  been  changed  on  a  sudden."  Not 
only  was  the  ancient  worship  suspended  in  private; 
but  even  in  public  sacrifices  and  prayers  were  offered 
in  unprecedented  ways.  At  first  the  sober  citizens 
contented  themselves  with  private  complaints.  When, 
however,  the  lesser  officials  attempted  to  put  the 
offending  practices  down,  they  almost  provoked  a 
riot.  The  matter  was  brought  before  the  Senate, 
and  they  gave  orders  to  the  city  praetor  to  sweep 
the  city  clear  of  those  superstitions.  He  commanded 
all  the  sacred  prophetic  books  in  the  city  to  be 
brought  to  him.  But  he  seems  to  have  overlooked 
the  verses  of  Marcius.  For,  next  year,  the  Senate 
was  compelled  to  accept  a  new  worship,  as  we  have 
already  seen.1  1  Liv<  xxv.  ,. 


PRIMITIVE   THOUGHT  141 

If,  then,  one  part  of  the  community  saw  in  their 
gods  a  disinclination  to  change,  and  so  safeguarded 
themselves  against  disturbance,  another  part  looked 
to  foreign  sources  for  a  sympathy  which  they  failed 
to  find  in  the  presence  of  the  traditional  deities.  In 
this  way  both  parties  projected  their  own  emotions  on 
to  the  face  of  heaven.  Let  us  now  see  how  they  read 
their  characteristic  modes  of  thought  into  the  per- 
vading activities  of  the  spiritual  agencies  surrounding 
them. 

In  the  primitive  mind  there  is  the  closest  associ- 
ation possible,  between  the  name  of  a  thing  and 
a  thing  itself.  Those  who  have  freed  themselves 
from  the  bondage  of  a  single  tongue  can  scarcely 
imagine  how  strong  this  tie  remains  in  the  minds 
of  those  who  know  no  language  save  their  own. 
To  speak  of  a  thing  is  almost  the  same  as  to  have 
it  before  you.  Mr.  Spencer  describes  the  name  of 
a  thing  as  "in  a  strained  sense  an  attribute."1  The 
studies  of  this  distinguished  writer  have  lain  mainly 
in  other  directions  than  those  of  literature.  I  do 
not  think  such  a  notion  would  have  occurred  to  a 
student  of  foreign  tongues.  However,  if  I  may  with- 
out impertinence  use  this  illustration,  it  seems  to 
me  to  explain  very  well  the  attitude  of  the  Roman 
mind  towards  names.  To  the  Roman  the  name  was 
an  attribute ;  and  this,  not  in  any  strained  sense,  as 
Mr.    Spencer   views   it   in   the   course  of  a  special 

1  Princ.  J's}(h.  pt.  vi.  c.  9. 


142        THE    WORSHIP    OF   THE    ROMANS 

argument.  It  was  rather  the  leading  attribute,  and 
for  some  purposes  might  be  treated  as  equivalent 
to  the  thing.  The  Flamen  Dialis  was  forbidden  to 
touch  a  dog,  or  a  goat,  raw  flesh,  ivy,  or  beans.  He 
was  forbidden  also  even  to  name  them.  The 
harm  that  might  come  through  them  could  also  be 
communicated  through  their  names.1 

Mr.  Grant  Allen  speaks  of  touch  as  "  the  mother 
tongue  of  the  affections."  It  would  be  difficult  to 
exaggerate  the  importance  of  this  sense  for  the 
emotions.  We  find  evidence  of  this  in  the  way  in 
which  touch  was  used  to  interpret  the  influence  of 
one  being  or  object  upon  another.  The  kingly  virtue 
was  thought  in  England  until  quite  recently  to  pass 
at  the  royal  contact  into  those  afflicted  with  "the 
king's  evil."  It  is  still  believed  by  many  that  the 
touch  of  the  mesmerist  conveys  some  strange  in- 
fluence into  the  body  of  his  patient.  From  this  point 
of  view  we  can  interpret  many  regulations  observed 
in  Rome.  Women  were  thought  to  be  possessed  of 
very  perilous  properties.  If  these  passed  into  the 
food  of  the  citizens,  there  was  no  knowing  what 
might  happen.  Women  were  not  permitted,  there- 
fore, in  ancient  times,  to  grind  the  corn,  or  to  dress 
the  meat  in  the  kitchen.  Hence  too,  on  the  other 
hand,  the  Flamen  Dialis,  whose  life  seems  to  have 
been  thought  of  as  bound  up  in  a  special  way  with 
the   public   welfare,  was   forbidden   to   touch   many 

1  Piut.  A\  Q,  in. 


PRIMITIVE   THOUGHT  143 

things,  lest  apparently  evil  influences  should  pass 
from  them  to  him.1 

In  this  way  the  being  of  everything  was,  so  to 
speak,  spread  out.  It  ran  into  every  object  with 
which  it  had  been  in  contact.  This  was  specially 
true  of  persons.  Whatever  has  belonged  to  a  man 
at  any  time  is  still  a  part  of  him,  and  he  can  be 
influenced  through  it.  They  used  to  tell  us,  when 
we  were  children,  that  when  a  tooth  was  drawn  it 
ought  to  be  thrown,  along  with  some  salt,  into  the 
fire.  Else  when  the  angel  of  the  resurrection  came, 
we  should  have  to  wander  until  we  found  it.  For 
if  it  got  into  the  wrong  hands,  there  was  no  knowing 
what  might  happen.  In  the  same  spirit,  the  Roman 
witches  used  to  draw  back  their  truant  lovers  through 
their  relics — a  lock  of  hair,  or  some  article  of  attire 
which  they  might  have  left  behind  them.  In  the 
Isle  of  Man,  if  one  fisherman  is  on  bad  terms  with 
another,  he  will  pluck  a  straw  from  the  other's 
dwelling,  as  he  goes  past  in  the  morning,  and  his 
victim,  having  thus  lost  his  luck,  will  catch  no  fish 
that  day. 

Let  us  follow  out  this  idea  a  little  further.  When 
the  same  thing  is  applied  to  a  large  number  of 
persons  in  common,  it  will  constitute  a  kind  of  bond 
among  them.  Blood  or  fat  seem  to  have  been 
regarded,  as  in  special  senses,  the  vehicles  of  life. 
Hence  the  application  of  them  on  public  occasions 

1   Fiut.  A\  0.  85,  in. 


144        THE   WORSHIP   OF  THE   ROMANS 

brought  the  persons  to  whom  they  were  applied  into 
the  charmed  circle  of  the  communal  existence.  We 
shall  have  a  future  opportunity  of  developing  some 
further  consequences  of  this  idea. 

The  bride,  on  entering  her  new  home,  smeared 
the  doorposts  with  swine's  fat.  This  is  explained 
when  we  find  that  it  was  an  ancient  custom  in  Italy 
for  the  newly-wedded  pair  to  sacrifice  a  pig.1  The 
life  of  the  pig  was  thus  applied  to  the  home  of  those 
who  had  already  partaken  of  it  together  in  sacrifice. 
We  have  already  seen  how,  at  the  Lupercalia,  the 
youths  who  ran  through  the  streets  had  their  faces 
smeared  with  blood  from  the  victim.  They  were 
thus  made  one  with  it.  Hence,  as  they  struck  at 
the  passers-by  with  goatskin,  they  enabled  them  to 
share  in  the  virtues  of  the  offering.  The  application 
of  the  blood  to  the  faces  of  the  youths,  and  the  blows 
with  the  leather  strips,  were  two  stages  in  this  process. 
When  the  blood  or  the  fat  of  the  victim  was  applied 
to  the  face  of  the  god,  or  of  his  human  representa- 
tive, the  oneness  of  the  community  with  the  object 
of  its  worship  was  signified  and  produced.  In  the 
worship  of  Bellona,  the  priests  used  to  make  incisions 
into  their  shoulders,  and  carry  drawn  swords,  with 
the  blades  laid  on  their  hands.  Their  blood  was 
sprinkled  upon  the  image  of  the  deity,  and  used  in 
the  sacrifice.2 

1   Plin.  N.  H.  xxviii.  135.    Varro,  R.  R.  ii.  10. 
-  Re/.  Sem.  304.     Lact.  i.  21. 


PRIMITIVE   THOUGHT  145 

Other  red  substances  might  be  used  as  substitutes. 
On  solemn  occasions  the  images  of  the  gods  were 
painted  with  vermilion  ;  in  the  same  way,  as  to  this 
day,  the  Hindus  smear  the  monkey-god  Hanuman. 
One  of  the  first  duties  of  the  newly-appointed  censors 
was  to  have  the  great  statue  of  Jupiter  on  the  Capitol 
so  treated.  The  country  people  honoured  the  rustic 
gods  in  the  same  way.  Not  only  was  minium  so 
applied  to  the  gods,  it  was  daubed  also  over  the  persons 
of  the  generals  who  celebrated  a  triumph.  For  they 
were  regarded  as  the  representatives  of  the  deity. 
The  rustic  worshipper  often  followed  the  same  habit.1 
The  feeling  that  minium  possessed  a  certain  sanctity 
seems  to  have  led  to  its  use  upon  funeral  inscriptions, 
and  also  to  mark  out  the  more  important  passages 
in  documents.  These  usages  are  very  widely  spread. 
The  Khonds  used  to  bedaub  themselves  with  red 
at  their  human  sacrifices.  The  victim,  however,  was 
anointed  with  oil  and  melted  butter,  and  was  also 
painted  with  saffron.  They  also  smear  with  saffron 
the  stone  which  represents  the  Great  Father.  So, 
too,  just  before  the  Roman  Brethren  of  the  Field 
closed  the  temple  doors  for  their  solemn  hymn, 
they  anointed  the  effigies  of  the  goddesses  with 
oil,  doubtless  taken  from  one  of  the  victims.  We 
are  reminded  of  the  anointing  which  played  so 
large  a  part  in  Jewish  ritual.  Jacob's  pillar  was 
anointed    in    the   same  way   as   the   images   of   the 

1  Plut.  R.  Q.  98.     Plin.  N.  H.  xxxiii.  ill.     Tib.  II.  i.  55. 
K 


146        THE   WORSHIP   OF   THE   ROMANS 

goddesses,   and   the    doorposts   of  the   new  Roman 
home.1 

Among  the  questions  which  Plutarch  set  himself 
to  answer  about  Roman  customs,  we  find  this, 
"  Why  is  it  that  all  other  offerings  to  the  gods  have 
reverence  done  to  them,  and  receive  repairs  when 
they  require  them,  while  the  spoils  taken  in  war  are 
allowed  to  perish  in  lapse  of  time  ? "  This  was 
probably  permitted  in  order  that  the  enemy  to  whom 
they  had  belonged  might  perish  in  like  manner. 
Here  we  light  upon  another  principle  of  the  First 
Philosophy.  Effects  are  like  their  causes.  When  the 
tables  were  taken  away  after  a  Roman  banquet 
something  was  left  upon  them.  This  made  certain 
a  continual  supply  for  the  future.  On  the  other 
hand,  it  was  very  unlucky  if  the  floor  was  swept  as 
anyone  rose  from  a  meal ;  as  also  if  a  table  or  a 
tray  was  removed  while  anyone  was  drinking.  The 
one  who  left  the  company  ran  the  risk  of  being 
swept  out  of  existence ;  and  the  drinker,  of  never 
drinking  again.  You  were  not  to  rise  before  the 
feast  was  over,  lest  your  rising  brought  about  your 
departure  from  the  feast  of  life.  It  was  of  bad 
omen  for  a  dish  to  be  removed  untasted,  or  for 
anyone  to  sit  at  the  meal  without  eating  at  all. 
If  a  morsel  fell  from  the  hand,  it  was  put  back 
upon  the  table.  You  were  forbidden  to  blow  the 
crumbs  away.     If  in  any  mistaken  zeal  for  neatness 

1  Reclu.-,  Prim.  Folk,  303,  311.     Wilm.  2879.     Reh  Sem.  1S7. 


PRIMITIVE   THOUGHT  147 

this  had  been  done,  the  fragments  had  to  be  picked 
up,  put  on  the  table,  and  burnt  to  the  house  spirit. 
The  modern  custom  of  leaving  a  few  ears  of  corn 
in  the  field  for  the  gleaners  is  a  survival  from  a 
similar  circle  of  beliefs.1 

The  Flamen  Dialis  must  go  as  free  as  possible, 
lest  through  him  the  city  should  become  crippled. 
He  might  not  use  a  knot  in  his  girdle  or  headgear, 
or  in  any  other  part  of  his  attire.  He  was  prohibited 
from  wearing  a  ring  unless  it  was  first  broken.  If 
anyone  came  into  the  residence  of  the  Flamen  in 
fetters  he  had  to  be  released.  In  such  a  case  the 
chains  were  drawn  up  through  the  opening  of  the 
court  of  the  house,  and  thrown  over  the  tiles  into 
the  street.  They  might  not  be  carried  over  the 
sacred  threshold.2 

In  Sweden  no  spinning  is  done  on  Thursday  night, 
for  fear  of  offending  the  spirit  who  watches  over  the 
cattle  and  the  crops.  The  twisting  of  the  thread 
and  the  downward  pull  of  the  spindle  might  affect 
the  growth  of  the  corn.  This  is  the  way,  perhaps, 
in  which  we  may  interpret  a  rule  of  which  Pliny 
speaks.  Women  passing  along  a  country  road  might 
not  twist  their  spindles  or  even  leave  them  uncovered, 
as  this  was  very  harmful  for  all  crops,  especially  of 
corn.3 

1  Plut.  R.  Q.  37.     Plin.  N.  H.  xxviii.  26,  27. 

2  Gell.  N.A.  x.  15. 

3  Mannhardt,  A.  F.  W.  i.  60.      Plin.  N.  II.  xxviii.  28. 


i48        THE   WORSHIP   OF   THE   ROMANS 

We  find  these  ideas  carried  out  with  great  con- 
sistency in  the  law  of  Rome.  The  actions  which 
were  employed,  imitated  the  effects  which,  from  time 
to  time,  the  lawyers  had  in  view,  and  the  objects 
with  which  such  actions  were  conversant,  represented, 
directly  or  indirectly,  what  was  at  stake.  "  Persons, 
slave  and  free,  and  likewise  animals  that  are  things 
mancipable,  cannot  be  mancipated  unless  they  are 
present,  and  so  strictly  is  this  the  case,  that  it  is 
necessary  for  him  who  takes  the  thing  by  mancipation 
to  grasp  that  which  is  given  to  him;  whence  the 
term  mancipation  is  derived,  because  the  thing  is 
taken  by  the  hand."  Thus  contact  is  necessary  in 
this  most  ancient  form  of  sale,  in  order  that  the  new 
ownership  might  be  established.  And  although  an 
estate  could  be  mancipated  at  a  distance,  still  a  sod, 
a  brick,  or  a  tile,  must  be  brought  to  be  handled. 
These  acts  were  more  than  symbolic.  They  pro- 
duced, it  was  thought,  the  new  condition  of  ownership. 
The  handling  of  the  sod  is  equivalent  in  these  ancient 
modes  of  thought  to  laying  hold  upon  the  stretch  of 
land  from  which  it  was  taken.  Hence  any  error  of 
procedure  was  more  than  formal.  It  rendered  of  no 
avail  the  whole  series  of  acts;  if,  for  example,  the 
purchaser  omitted  to  take  the  sod  of  earth,  or  if  it 
were  not  taken  from  the  land  in  question.  So  in 
the  consecration  of  a  temple  the  priest  laid  his  hand 
upon  the  doorpost. 

Again,  if  the  words  of  the  contracting  parties  were 


PRIMITIVE   THOUGHT  149 

thought  to  have  magical  power,  we  can  perceive 
why  an  error  in  the  expression  employed  made  null 
the  effect  to  be  obtained  by  their  means.  How  real 
this  belief  was,  appears  from  many  instances.  A 
building  had  been  unduly  consecrated.  The  Senate 
charged  the  praetor  to  see  to  it  that  it  did  not  retain 
a  sacred  character,  and  especially  that  all  letters 
incised  upon  its  materials  should  be  removed ;  as 
though  they  would  otherwise  go  on  "raining  in- 
fluence."1 When  the  Romans  were  digging  out 
foundations  on  the  Tarpeian  rock,  they  found  a 
human  head.  Envoys  were  sent  by  the  Senate  into 
Etruria  to  enquire  about  the  matter,  and  a  very 
famous  seer,  Olenus  of  Cales,  seeing  the  brilliant 
fortune  presaged  by  the  discovery,  tried  to  turn  it 
to  the  benefit  of  his  own  nation.  He  drew  on  the 
ground  a  sketch  of  the  site  with  his  stick,  and  asked, 
"  Do  you  say,  men  of  Rome,  this  is  to  be  the  temple  of 
Jupiter  Greatest  and  Best ;  here  we  found  the  head  ?  " 
The  annals  are  agreed  that  the  Roman  destiny  would 
have  passed  over  to  Etruria,  unless  the  envoys  had 
been  warned  by  the  son  of  the  seer.  They  replied, 
"It  is  not  here  but  at  Rome  that  we  say  the  head 
was  found."  From  this  and  similar  stories  we  can 
appreciate  the  strictness  demanded  by  the  Romans 
in  the  recitation  of  legal  formulae.2 

According  to  primitive  thought,  events  which  occur 

1  Gaius,  i.  I2f.     Cic.  dc  Do  mo  sua,  137. 

2  Plin.  N.  H.  xxviii.  15. 


ISO        THE   WORSHIP   OF   THE   ROMANS 

together  or  in  immediate  succession  are  connected  as 
cause  and  effect.  We  need  not  ever  look  very  far 
back  for  the  cause  of  a  thing.  Some  incident  of 
the  moment  which  attracts  the  popular  eye,  will 
explain  the  whole  issue  of  a  great  and  complex 
crisis.  The  Etruscans  set  definite  limits  to  the 
prophetic  influence  of  omens.  The  fortunes  of  in- 
dividuals were  not  indicated  more  than  ten  years 
ahead,  while  the  destiny  of  the  State  loomed  over 
it  as  far  forward  as  thirty  years.1  But  these  limits 
pass  those  set  by  the  lay  mind.  It  loved  to  dwell 
most  upon  coincidences.  By  observing  these  it 
appeared  that  certain  occurrences  were  associated 
with  good  fortune,  others  with  ill  fortune.  It  will 
not  surprise  us  that  among  these  occurrences  an 
important  place  is  given  to  the  words  that  happen 
to  be  uttered.  The  good  wishes  to  which  the 
Romans  gave  expression  on  the  morning  of  the 
new  year,  were  more  than  mere  sounds  to  them  ; 
they  were  means  operating  towards  the  happiness 
of  the  next  twelvemonths.  A  like  feeling  led  them 
to  choose  names  of  good  omen  for  the  attendants 
who  led  the  victims  at  the  public  purifications. 
Closely  connected  with  the  belief  that  words  bring 
luck  or  bad  fortune,  is  the  belief  that  numbers 
influence  the  course  of  things.  "We  believe,"  says 
Pliny,  "that  odd  numbers  have  more  power  than 
even  ones."     "God  takes  delight  in  odd  numbers," 

1  Plin.  N.  H.  ii.  139. 


PRIMITIVE   THOUGHT  15 1 

says  Virgil.1  Even  numbers  were  less  lucky.  The 
Calends,  Nones,  and  Ides,  of  the  Roman  month 
were  always  so  arranged  as  to  fall  upon  odd  days ; 
whereas  the  days  that  immediately  followed  them 
were  unlucky.  On  these  latter  the  Romans  refused 
to  begin  a  journey,  and  the  army  never  took  the 
field.  Five  wax  candles,  neither  more  nor  less,  were 
lighted  at  weddings.  Names  are  repeated  quite 
superfluously  in  curses  that  the  mystical  number 
three  may  be  reached.  The  power  of  the  charm 
against  gout  obviously  depended  upon  its  being 
repeated  nine  times.2 

We  may  suppose  that  many  beliefs  as  to  the  lucky 
or  unlucky  character  of  actions  or  things  arose  from 
coincidences.  A  single  one,  if  it  were  striking, 
would  be  able  to  establish  a  custom.  We  may  refer 
to  this  source  some  customs  at  least.  It  was  best, 
for  instance,  to  put  the  right  foot  foremost.  The 
steps  in  front  of  temples  were  of  unequal  number, 
in  order  that  the  worshipper,  beginning  to  ascend 
with  the  right  foot,  might  set  the  same  foot  on  the 
top  step.  The  Moslem  still  puts  his  right  foot  first 
over  the  threshold  on  entering  a  mosque.3 

The  belief  in  the  evil  eye  accounted  for  the  fact 
that  some  persons  brought  ill  luck.  If  a  mis- 
fortune seemed  to  be  connected  with  the  approach 

1  Plin.  N.  H.  xxviii.  23.      Virg.  Ed.  viii.  76. 

2  Plut.  R.  Q.  2,  25.     Wilm.  2747. 

3  Vitr.  iii.  4,  4. 


i52        THE   WORSHIP   OF  THE   ROMANS 

of  anyone,  it  was  because  he  had  the  fatal  gift. 
Those  who  have  read  Gautier's  striking  story,  Jetta- 
tura,  will  realise  the  strength  of  the  superstition  in 
antiquity.  The  numerous  charms  and  amulets  that 
have  been  found  show  that  in  this,  as  in  other 
respects,  the  great  Roman  writers  give  a  very  im- 
perfect picture  of  their  contemporaries. 

It  is  a  fitting  conclusion  to  this  enumeration  of 
Roman  modes  of  thought,  that  we  should  turn  for 
a  moment  to  the  belief  in  metamorphoses.  Anything 
could  become  anything  else.  We  shall  find  in  the 
next  chapter  that  this  belief  underlies  many  magical 
practices.  It  is  the  necessary  corollary  of  the  in- 
ability to  conceive  of  the  order  of  Nature  as  fixed 
and  determinate.  Ovid,  in  his  poem,  The  Meta- 
morphoses, has  described  in  great  detail  a  large  series 
of  human  beings  who  changed  their  form  ;  but  his 
material  is  drawn  almost  wholly  from  Greek  sources, 
and  does  not  represent  genuine  Italian  tradition. 


ROMAN    MAGIC 


THERE  is  no  more  melancholy  chapter  in  the 
history  of  the  human  race  than  that  which 
deals  with  witchcraft  and  its  punishment.  As  late 
as  1736,  the  statute  book  of  this  country  contained 
laws  against  witchcraft.  Nor  had  they  long  been 
a  dead  letter.  In  1722,  a  so-called  witch  was  done 
to  death  by  process  of  law  in  Sutherlandshire.1 
Cotton  Mather,  in  New  England,  and  Richard 
Baxter,  on  this  side  of  the  Atlantic,  did  all  they 
could,  a  generation  before  that  time,  to  rouse  the 
blind  fury  of  popular  prejudice.  An  old  Frenchman 
was  drowned  in  Essex,  on  suspicion  of  sorcery,  so 
late  as  1863.2  It  is  doubtful  whether,  in  the  middle 
ages,  as  many  persons  lost  their  lives  in  the  cause 
of  religion  by  the  executioner,  as  were  harried  out 
of  this  world,  with  the  applause  of  all  parties,  on 
the  charge  of  witchcraft.  When  the  services  of  the 
modern  scientific  movement  are  reckoned  up,  this 
should  be  included  as  one  of  the  greatest ;  that  it 
has    done    something   to    free    mankind    from    this 

1  Tukc,  History  of  the  Insane  in  the  British  Iskst  39. 

2  Lyall,  Asiatic  Studies,   II. 


154        THE   WORSHIP   OF   THE   ROMANS 

loathsome  bondage  of  belief  in  sorcery.  It  is  likely 
that  this  one  superstition  has  led  in  Europe  to  the 
judicial  murder  of  at  least  half  a  million  persons,  and 
these,  in  great  part,  unoffending  lonely  old  women. 

We  seem  to  breathe  an  air  more  like  that  of  the 
present,  as  we  turn  from  the  middle  ages  to  a  writer 
of  the  first  century.  "  The  art  of  magic,"  says  Pliny 
the  elder,  "has  prevailed  in  most  ages  and  in  most 
parts  of  the  globe."  (This  assertion  might  have 
been  made  to  include  the  future  as  well.)  "  Let 
no  one,"  proceeds  Pliny,  "  wonder  that  it  has  wielded 
very  great  authority,  inasmuch  as  it  embraces  three 
other  sources  of  influence.  No  one  doubts  that  it 
took  its  rise  in  medicine,  and  sought  to  cloak  itself 
in  the  garb  of  a  science  more  profound  and  holy 
than  the  common  run.  It  added  to  its  tempting 
promises  the  force  of  religion,  after  which  the  human 
race  is  groping,  especially  at  this  time.  Further,  it 
has  brought  in  the  arts  of  astrology  and  divination. 
For  everyone  desires  to  know  what  is  to  come  to 
him,  and  believes  that  certainty  can  be  gained  by 
consulting  the  stars.  Having  in  this  way  taken 
captive  the  feelings  of  man  by  a  triple  chain,  it 
has  reached  such  a  pitch  that  it  rules  over  all  the 
world,  and,  in  the  East,  governs  the  kings  of  kings." 
Pliny  is  mistaken  in  supposing  that  all  the  practices 
with  which  we  are  about  to  deal  took  their  rise  in 
purposive  invention.  But  he  is  nearer  the  truth 
when  he  brings  magic  into  connection  with  medicine, 


ROMAN   MAGIC  155 

divination,  and  worship.  It  will  be  our  business  to 
trace  out  the  mode  in  which  this  relation  should 
be  viewed. 

At  first  the  observances  of  religion  were  practical 
expedients,  directed  towards  given  ends.  Only  by 
degrees  did  they  gain  that  ethical  and  spiritual 
meaning  which,  in  Western  countries,  is  now  their 
distinguishing  feature.  We  might  even  define  religion, 
in  the  most  primitive  form  in  which  it  presents  itself, 
as  magic  employed  for  public  ends.  A  few  illustrations 
will  make  this  clear. 

A  stone  used  to  be  kept  in  a  temple  of  Mars, 
just  outside  the  gates  of  Rome.  Whenever  there 
was  a  drought,  it  used  to  be  brought  by  the  pontiffs 
into  the  city.  Immediately  the  rain  came  down  in 
showers.1  Another  artifice  of  state  magic  is  to  be 
seen  in  the  throwing  of  puppets  into  the  Tiber, 
which  took  place  every  May.  This  seems  to  have 
been  also  a  rain  charm.2  "At  Bucharest,  the  trial 
has  taken  place  of  two  boys,  aged  six  and  fourteen 
respectively,  who  confessed  that  they  had  drowned 
deliberately  a  child  two  years  old.  They  declared 
that  the  long  drought  and  total  lack  of  rain  had 
to  be  put  a  stop  to  by  some  means.  This  extra- 
ordinary defence  is  explained  by  an  old  custom  of 
the  country.  The  children  of  the  villages,  in  times 
of  great  drought,  are  made  to  throw  a  clay  figure 

1  Preller,  Rem,  Myth.  i.  354. 
*  Mannhardt,  A.  F.  W.  i.  265  ff. 


156        THE   WORSHIP   OF   THE   ROMANS 

of  a  child  into  the  water.  The  boys  drowned  the 
child  merely  because  they  had  no  clay  figure.  The 
elder  was  sentenced  to  two  years'  imprisonment."1 
Thus  the  customs  of  the  Roumanians  of  the  present 
enable  us  to  enter  into  the  mind  of  the  Roman 
officers  of  religion  two  thousand  years  ago.  But 
there  is  no  need  to  go  as  far  away  as  this  for 
parallels.  At  Loddiswell,  near  Plymouth,  Mayday 
is  known  as  ducking  day,  it  being  the  custom  for 
the  boys,  whenever  they  have  the  chance,  to  throw 
water  over  the  passers-by.  In  May  of  last  year 
(1894),  this  custom  was  carried  out  as  a  conveyance 
was  approaching.  The  horses  ran  away,  and  the 
occupant  was  thrown  out  and  killed.  The  name 
"ducking  day"  points  to  a  practice  similar  to  the 
Roumanian  one.2 

It  may  be  questioned  whether  the  average  man 
is  ever  quite  at  ease  in  a  thunderstorm.  The 
Emperor  Tiberius  used  to  be  scared  out  of  his  wits 
by  one ;  when  the  sky  was  threatening,  he  went 
about  with  a  laurel  wreath  on  his  head,  because 
that  kind  of  foliage  was  said  to  be  proof  against 
lightning.  Augustus  took  measures  still  more  elab- 
orate. He  carried  a  sealskin  about  with  him  always 
and  everywhere.  When  there  was  the  least  suspicion 
of  a  storm,  he  used  to  put  this  on  and  go  down 
into  the  cellar.    A  similar  practice  to  that  of  Tiberius 

1  Nottm.  Evening  News,  Dec.  6,  1S94. 

2  Nottm.  Evening  Post,  May  18,  1894. 


ROMAN    MAGIC  157 

is  found  in  Germany  to-day.  In  the  Black  Forest 
poles  are  erected,  with  bouquets  at  the  top,  to  keep 
off  the  lightning.  We  may  appreciate  the  importance 
of  the  charm  which  the  priests  had  at  their  disposal 
at  Rome,  when  we  learn  that  it  was  disclosed  to 
them  by  the  god  of  thunder.  In  making  use  of  it, 
as  in  trundling  the  lapis  manalis  along  into  the  city, 
they  were  performing  acts  which  directly  produce 
results  beneficial  to  the  community.1 

The  State  magic  of  Rome  culminates  in  the  use 
of  the  indigitanienta.  We  have  seen  that  they  con- 
tained the  names  of  those  spirits  who  guard  each 
single  action  with  which  man  is  concerned.  In  the 
thought  of  a  Roman,  the  name  of  a  spirit  was  strong 
enough,  if  uttered,  to  evoke  him.  Thus  the  pontiffs 
who  had  charge  of  these  lists  were  enabled  to  call 
forth  just  those  influences  which  were  demanded 
by  each  particular  occasion.  The  sacred  formulae 
which  we  find  here  and  there  were  derived  from 
their  suggestion.  When  Decius  devoted  himself  to 
death  for  the  victory  of  the  Roman  forces,  he  invoked 
a  long  series  of  gods — Janus,  Jupiter,  Father  Mars, 
Quirinus,  Bellona,  the  Lares,  the  new  gods,  the  gods 
who  were  on  the  sacred  list,  indigites,  the  gods  who 
have  power  over  our  countrymen  and  the  enemy, 
the  deified  dead,  dii  manes.2  This  all-embracing  list 
answers  to  the  interests  at  stake.     In  less  important 

1  Suet.  Aug;,  qo  ;   Tib.  69.     Baring-Gould,  Strange  Survivals,  52. 


158        THE   WORSHIP   OF   THE   ROMANS 

cases,  one  or  two  special  spirits  were  summoned. 
All  instances  exhibit  to  us  the  careful  Roman,  taking 
every  precaution  lest  any  deity  should  be  omitted 
whose  assistance  was  desirable,  and  also  his  strong 
belief  in  the  efficacy  of  invocations,  when  they  were 
rightly  performed. 

The  primitive  theory  of  disease  does  not  admit 
that  it  can  arise  in  the  natural  order  of  things.  It 
is  due  to  the  anger  of  some  spirit,  or  the  machina- 
tions of  some  enemy.  In  Juvenal's  time,  an  ailing 
Roman,  who  was  racked  with  pain  and  fever,  thought 
that  his  disease  was  sent  by  an  offended  deity. 
Hence  a  cure  seemed  possible,  if  the  deity  in  ques- 
tion could  be  appeased  by  sacrifice  and  prayer.  In 
such  terms,  perhaps,  we  might  express  the  feelings  of 
a  man  whose  religion  had  risen  above  the  primitive 
belief  in  magic.  If,  however,  we  turn  to  the  methods 
that  were  actually  resorted  to  by  the  early  Roman, 
they  are  at  once  seen  to  be  of  the  same  kind  with 
other  magical  expedients.  The  elder  Cato  gives  a 
formula  which  was  potent  against  sprains — havat 
havat  havat  ista  pista  sista  damia  bodanna  ustra — 
which  was,  in  all  likelihood,  no  better  understood 
by  the  Romans  than  by  us.  He  thought  that  sleep- 
lessness might  be  cured  by  eating  hare.  Where  the 
expedients  of  popular  medicine  are  not  trivial,  they 
are  characterised  as  a  rule  by  their  offensive  char- 
acter. We  turn  with  relief  from  them  to  the  graceful 
idea,  borrowed  from  Greece,  that  the  cure  of  disease 


ROMAN   MAGIC  159 

was  disclosed  by  the  god  of  healing  to  his  wor- 
shipper in  dreams.  The  philosophic  emperor,  Marcus 
Aurelius,  records  with  gratitude  the  relief  that  had 
been  vouchsafed  to  him  by  this  means.  When 
disease  ceased  to  be  confined  to  individuals,  and 
became  epidemic,  it  was  the  duty  of  the  religious 
officials  of  the  state  to  find  a  cure  of  corresponding 
scope.  On  one  occasion  the  matrons  of  Rome  swept 
with  their  hair  the  temple  floors.  The  plague  ceased 
thereupon.  Livy,  however,  is  uncertain  whether  the 
cessation  ought  to  be  attributed  to  the  "  peace  of 
the  gods,"  which  was  so  obtained,  or  to  the  more 
favourable  season  of  the  year.1 

If  it  appears  from  this  that  the  medicine  of  the 
Romans  was  in  about  the  same  stage  of  advance- 
ment as,  say,  in  the  time  of  Shakespeare,  we  must 
give  them  credit  for  dealing  with  the  phenomena 
of  insanity  in  a  manner  more  consonant  with 
common  sense,  than  the  treatment  which  was  meted 
out  to  the  insane  during  the  whole  of  the  middle 
ages.  Although  there  are  indications  that  madness 
was  viewed  by  the  common  people  as  a  kind  of 
possession  by  spirits,  this  belief  did  not  govern  the 
attitude  of  the  Roman  lawyers.  The  person  of  dis- 
ordered mind  was  not  deprived  of  the  control  of 
his  estate,  unless  he  turned  out  to  be  entirely 
incapable.      When    this   was    the   case   he   was   put 

1  Cato,  j?.  R.  160.    Plin.  N.  H,  xxviii.  260.    Antonin.  Medit.  i.  17, 
ix.  27.      Liv.  iii.  7. 


160        THE   WORSHIP   OF   THE   ROMANS 

under  the  guardianship  of  his  nearest  kinsman.  His 
guardian  was  bound  to  keep  him  both  from  injuring 
himself  and  others.  In  fact,  insanity  was  treated  as 
"  a  sickness  and  disease  of  the  mind,"  to  use  Cicero's 
phrase.  There  is  a  curious  piece  of  evidence,  by 
which  we  may  infer  that  the  lot  of  the  insane  was 
a  mild  one  at  Rome.  It  became  actually  a  practice 
for  citizens  to  feign  madness,  that  they  might  have 
a  guardian  assigned  to  them,  and  thus  shirk  public 
duty.  If  they  had  lived  as  late  as  the  seventeenth 
century,  they  would  have  hesitated  to  feign  lunacy ; 
for  they  would  have  run  the  risk  of  being  burnt  as 
witches  and  as  possessed  with  devils. 

A  rescript  of  the  Emperor  Marcus  Aurelius  deals 
with  insanity  in  its  relation  to  crime.  One  Aelius 
Priscus  had  murdered  his  mother,  and  the  plea  of 
insanity  was  set  up.  The  emperor  wrote  that  if 
his  madness  was  of  such  a  character  that  he  was 
devoid  of  reason  through  the  uninterrupted  derange- 
ment of  his  mind,  he  was  not  to  be  punished ;  his 
insanity  being  in  itself  sufficient  penalty.  He  was, 
however,  to  be  kept  in  more  strict  watch,  and,  if 
it  should  seem  good  to  the  magistrate,  to  be  put  in 
chains  for  the  safety  of  his  neighbours.  Inquiry  was 
ordered  to  be  made  whether  reasonable  precautions 
were  taken  by  his  relatives.  The  annals  of  medical 
jurisprudence  show  how  late  modern  Europe  has 
been  in  arriving  even  at  this  stage  of  enlightenment.1 
1  Dig.  i.  17,  14;  xxvii.  10,  6.     Cic.  Tusc.  in.  8. 


ROMAN    MAGIC  161 

In  the  minds  of  the  mediaeval  judges,  superstitious 
dread  of  witchcraft,  and  the  belief  in  demoniacal 
possession,  combined  to  blind  them  to  the  true 
nature  of  insanity.  "  It  is  indeed  impossible,"  says 
Dr.  Tuke,  "  to  read  the  narratives  of  some  of  the 
unfortunate  hags  who  were  put  to  death  for  witch- 
craft, without  recognising  the  well-marked  features 
of  the  victims  of  cerebral  disease.  In  this  way  I 
have  no  doubt  that  a  considerable  number  of  mad 
people  were  destroyed."1  Perhaps  these  considerations 
will  enable  us  to  understand  why  the  Romans  escaped 
the  awful  stain  which  lies  across  the  whole  page  of 
modern  history.  In  this  respect  we  must  set  their 
intellectual  advancement  very  high  indeed. 

The  origin  of  most  of  the  usages  included  under 
the  head  of  magic  is  enveloped  in  darkness.  We 
can,  however,  trace  some  to  their  source.  When 
the  early  Romans  passed  from  their  own  soil  to  that 
of  strangers,  it  was  with  hesitation  and  dread.  In 
their  own  land,  every  familiar  spot  seemed  to  be 
hallowed  by  the  remains  of  their  dead,  or  the 
presence  of  some  guardian  spirit.  It  was  far  other- 
wise elsewhere.  A  foreign  land  was  haunted  by 
spirits  in  sympathy  with,  or  under  the  control  of, 
enemies.  And  the  nation  who  dwelt  in  it  seemed 
to  wield  powers  of  an  unusual  kind.  The  Marsi, 
who  inhabited  the  central  highlands  to  the  east  of 
Rome,   were   believed    to   be   a   nation   of  wizards. 

1  Op.  cit.  p.  36. 

L 


i62        THE   WORSHIP   OF   THE   ROMANS 

They  were  said  to  have  sprung  from  a  son  of  the 
enchantress  Circe,  by  a  legend  invented  to  explain 
a  feeling  which  already  existed  in  the  popular  mind. 
Further,  their  bodies  had  a  natural  virtue,  whereby 
they  resisted  the  poison  of  serpents.1  Thus  fear 
and  dislike  of  the  foreign  race  is  combined  with 
belief  in  their  magical  powers.  Hence,  also,  when 
a  primitive  people  migrates  into  the  land  of  another, 
it  brings  with  it  a  feeling  towards  the  original  occu- 
pants, which  manifests  itself  in  many  ways.  Let 
us  trace  the  bearing  of  this  on  Roman  beliefs  and 
practices. 

The  great  temple  of  Jupiter,  rising  on  the  southern 
knoll  of  the  Capitoline  Hill,  was  the  centre  of  Roman 
worship.  Other  deities  also  were  honoured  in  the 
same  sanctuary  with  Jove  Best  and  Mightiest.  He 
occupied  the  nave,  but  the  eastern  aisle  was  conse- 
crated to  Minerva,  the  western  to  Juno.  The 
composite  character  of  this  chief  seat  of  Roman 
worship  bears  witness  to  the  mingling  of  the  stocks 
that  worshipped  there.  But  another  and  more 
primitive  deity  kept  his  place  with  these  three.  At 
the  foundation  of  the  temple,  many  of  the  small 
chapels  which  clustered  together  on  this  "high  place" 
were  desecrated  in  order  to  make  room  for  the  new- 
comers. But  the  boundary  spirit  Terminus  refused, 
it  was  said,  to  depart,  and  his  chapel  was  included 
in  the  temple  precincts.     Mr.  Gomme  has  suggested 

1  Plin.  N.  H.  vii.  15. 


ROMAN   MAGIC  163 

that  stone  worship  among  Aryan  races  was  taken 
over  from  the  vanquished  non-Aryans,  among  whom 
they  lived  as  their  lords.2  We  may  suppose  that 
the  stone  which  represented  Terminus  was  a  relic 
from  the  original  dwellers  by  the  Tiber.  Roman 
traditions  and  rites  point  to  the  existence  of  a  people 
with  whom  the  Romans  mingled,  as  strangers  coming 
from  without.  The  savage  nature  of  many  of  the 
Roman  customs  may  be  due,  therefore — in  part,  at 
least — to  borrowing  from  less  civilised  neighbours. 
In  India  the  non- Aryan  races  are  credited  with 
supernatural  powers  by  their  more  cultured  neigh- 
bours, who  join  in  their  rites  at  fixed  seasons, 
although  at  other  times  they  disdain  commerce  with 
them.  In  applying  this  analogy  to  Rome,  we  seem 
to  meet  a  case  in  which  the  contrast  of  superior  and 
inferior  is  less  strongly  marked.2 

We  may  expect,  therefore,  to  find  parallels  among 
savage  races  of  the  present,  for  some  of  the  usages 
which,  perhaps,  the  Romans  borrowed.  The  smearing 
of  the  face  with  the  blood  of  the  victim  at  the  Luper- 
calia  suggests  that  the  Luperci  once  rent  the  goat  with 
their  teeth,  like  the  priest  in  the  festival  of  the  village 
goddess  in  some  parts  of  Southern  India.  So  also 
the  smearing  of  the  body  of  the  triumphant  general, 
or  of  the  rustic  worshipper,  seems  to  be  paralleled 
by  the  usage  of  the  Damaras,  who  smear  the  bodies 

1  Ethnology  in  Folk  Lore,  19. 
8  Liv.  i.  2. 


1 64        THE    WORSHIP    OF   THE   ROMANS 

of  the  messengers  sent  into  the  lands  of  foreign 
tribes ;  or  of  the  Donagla,  among  whom  the  bride- 
groom is  anointed  from  head  to  foot  on  the  afternoon 
preceding  the  wedding  day.2 

The  flint  which  plays  so  large  and  so  strange  a 
part  in  the  worship  of  Jove  may  be  related  to  the 
use  of  flint  by  the  aborigines.  The  evil  spirits 
appear  as  stone-age  men,  "  shy  of  their  conquerors, 
and  loathing  their  agriculture."2  Tokens  of  hus- 
bandry were  a  charm  against  the  wild  men  of  the 
woods. 

If  the  primitive  inhabitants  of  the  district  were 
not  acquainted  with  the  use  of  iron,  it  may  well 
have  been  thought  to  exercise  some  influence  hostile 
to  them.  And  since  the  superior  race  thought  of 
them  as  specially  leagued  with  evil  spirits,  the  iron 
which  was  hostile  to  them  would  also  ward  off  their 
familiars.  Hence  the  Flamen  Dialis  slept  with  iron 
at  the  head  of  his  bed,  as  a  preservative  against 
them.  The  bridge  of  piles  over  the  Tiber  was 
apparently  of  very  ancient  date.  If  it  was  first 
built  before  the  use  of  iron  was  brought  in,  it  is 
clear  why  this  metal  was  not  permitted  to  be  used 
in  repairs  in  later  times.  The  taboo  of  iron  was 
extended  to  typical  Roman  usages.  It  would  be 
interesting  to  know  why  an  axe  might  not  be  used 
on  the  wood  of  the  funeral  pyre.     Was  it  because 

1  Gomme,  op.  cit.  25.     Casati,  Ten  Years  in  Equatoria,  i.  69. 

2  cf.  Tylor,  Prim.  Cult,  i   3S6. 


ROMAN   MAGIC  165 

the  iron  would  scare  away  the  spirit  of  the  dead 
man,  and  cause  him  to  haunt  the  streets,  instead 
of  resting  peacefully  with  his  ashes?1 

There  is  some  justification,  therefore,  for  attribut- 
ing, in  part  at  least,  the  use  of  magical  rites  to  the 
influence  of  the  neighbours  of  the  Romans.  Some 
of  these  rites  were  borrowed  directly,  others  arose 
out  of  the  relation  of  the  newcomers  to  the  original 
inhabitants.  In  historical  times  the  beliefs  of  the 
Roman  continued  to  be  influenced  largely  by  his 
immediate  neighbours.  And  with  the  new  beliefs 
he  adopted  related  practices.  The  Etruscans  indeed 
determined  the  development  of  his  art  of  prophecy, 
rather  than  the  cruder  usages  of  his  magic ;  we 
shall  have  occasion  afterwards  to  observe  this  point 
more  closely.  But  it  is  to  the  Greeks  and  the  peoples 
further  east,  that  we  must  look  chiefly  for  the  origin 
of  the  rites  that  rose  to  such  prominence  in  the  later 
years  of  the  Republic. 

/  How  was  it  that  the  Romans  were  so  ready  to 
adopt  foreign  usages  ?  J  The  answer  is  to  be  found 
in  the  formal  character  of  their  religion.  Each  act 
was  directed  to  some  practical  end,  and  expressed 
nothing  more  than  the  expectancy  of  a  certain 
result.  The  Romans  were  rich  in  the  things  of  the 
world  of  practice,  in  subordination  to  authority,  in 
rigorous  self-direction  to  the  matter  in  hand,  in 
unconquered  perseverance.  They  were  poor  in 
1  Gell.  JV.A.  x.  15.    xii.  Tab.  9. 


166        THE  WORSHIP   OF  THE  ROMANS 

imagination  and  the  gifts  upon  which  it  rests,  in 
sympathy,  insight,  and  a  love  of  ideal  satisfactions. 
They  were  "  cumbered  with  much  serving,"  and 
found  it  difficult  to  employ  in  a  reasonable  manner 
the  leisure  which  came  in  the  train  of  their  successes. 
Their  ideas  were  like  the  shadows  which  take  colour 
from  surrounding  objects.  Hence,  instead  of  clinging 
like  nations  of  higher  spiritual  endowment,  the  Jews 
for  instance,  all  the  more  closely  to  their  ritual  in 
times  of  depression,  they  had  recourse  continually 
to  fresh  objects  of  veneration :  not  for  the  sake  of 
the  new  deities,  but  because  they  hoped  that  the 
new  charms  would  be  more  efficacious  than  the  old 
ones  they  discarded.  Nor  in  surrendering  the  old 
did  they  seem  to  have  lost  any  dear  and  familiar 
consolation. 

The  attitude  which  the  Romans  as  a  nation  thus 
adopted  is  carried  out  in  their  private  life  with  great 
consistency.  The  individual  for  whom  the  State 
magic  ceased  to  be  more  than  a  matter  of  form, 
had  recourse  to  foreign  wizards.  In  fact,  the  Govern- 
ment followed  popular  feeling  at  a  distance  in 
admitting  new  observances.  We  might  be  quite 
sure  that  for  each  new  worship  received  formally 
into  the  State,  there  were  a  dozen  others  taken  up 
by  the  citizens  in  their  private  capacity. 

It  has  been  well  said  that  some  magic  is  a  kind  of 
private  religion.  The  individual  attempts  to  employ 
for  his  own  benefit  other,  and  as  he  conceives,  more 


ROMAN   MAGIC  167 

powerful  agencies  than  those  provided  in  public 
ordinances.  Hence  in  most  ancient  states  the  use 
of  magic  was  viewed  with  great  suspicion.  In 
Palestine  witchcraft  was  punishable  with  death.  At 
Rome,  however,  there  was  so  great  an  analogy 
between  the  State  religion  and  the  practice  of  private 
magic,  that  the  latter  was  left  undisturbed  as  a  rule. 

When  magic  is  thus  described  to  consist  in  borrow- 
ing from  foreign  religions,  it  is  not  meant,  of  course, 
that  the  whole  of  the  foreign  religion  was  borrowed. 
The  loan  was  of  a  very  limited  character.  It  simply 
consisted  in  those  elements  which  could  be  taken 
over  by  a  people  with  the  temper  of  the  primitive 
Roman,  namely,  in  the  imitation  of  certain  definite 
acts.  Since  the  Roman  attached  little  emotional 
signification  to  his  national  ritual,  it  was  not  to  be 
expected  that  he  should  do  more  for  the  ritual  of 
another  race.  We  are  thus  brought  back  to  the 
account  of  magic  with  which  we  started,  special 
acts  performed  with  a  view  to  some  practical  end. 
When  the  emotional  life  of  Rome  was  enriched  by 
the  admixture  of  other  civilisations,  this  mechanical 
form  of  borrowing  was  no  longer  possible.  Foreign 
religions  were  better  understood.  Magic  was  dis- 
credited in  its  grosser  forms.  Instead  of  coming 
in  partially  as  magic,  external  faiths  were  introduced 
under  the  form  of  mysteries. 

At  the  same  time  there  is  a  magical  element  in  the 
mysteries  which  must  not  be  overlooked.     The  ritual 


168        THE   WORSHIP   OF   THE   ROMANS 

of  the  devotees  of  Isis  impressed  the  Roman  by  its 
strangeness.  He  hoped  to  find  in  it  a  strength 
which  the  more  familiar  usages  of  his  own  worship 
appeared  to  have  lost. 

Further,  the  peculiar  character  which  the  mysteries 
possessed  in  the  eyes  of  the  ancient  world,  was 
largely  due  to  their  private  nature.  Just  as  magic 
consisted,  so  to  speak,  in  wonder-working  formulae 
unknown  to  the  world  in  general,  so  the  devotee  of 
any  mysteries  was  lifted  away  into  a  new  world,  and 
this  not  of  action  alone,  but  of  feeling  and  belief.  In 
fact,  the  distinction  between  the  initiated  and  the 
profane  could  only  arise  in  the  presence  of  strangers. 
So  that  we  hear  of  mysteries  in  two  cases :  when 
worships  are  transplanted  to  a  foreign  soil,  and  when 
they  are  resorted  to  by  strangers.  The  mysteries  of 
Isis,  in  their  Roman  shape,  are  a  good  instance  of 
the  former ;  those  of  Demeter  at  Eleusis  of  the 
latter.  And  even  the  native  worships  gain  some- 
what of  the  same  tinge.  For  all  ancient  worship 
was  in  some  measure  an  initiation  into  a  society. 
Hence,  when  a  stranger  came  in  contact  with  it,  he 
had  to  undergo  at  once  experiences  that  for  a  regular 
worshipper  might  be  spread  over  a  term  of  years. 
The  minute  rules,  which  the  new-comer  was 
instructed  to  observe,  were  viewed  in  the  light  of 
the  solemn  company  which  he  was  invited  to  join, 
and  so  were  lifted  above  the  mere  magic  of  tradi- 
tional acts.      And  so  it  could  be  that  religions  like 


ROMAN   MAGIC  169 

that  of  Egypt,  which  were  in  some  respects  as  coarse 
as  savage  religions,  gained  a  sanctity  at  Rome  which 
was  not  without  a  good  effect  upon  the  lives  of  their 
devotees. 

The  lower  kind  of  borrowing  went  on  by  the  side 
of  the  higher ;  foreign   magic  continued  to  come  in 
as  well  as  foreign  mysteries.     Horace  has  described 
for  us  with  some  detail,  the  antics  of  two  witches  in 
the  old  cemetery  of  the  Esquiline.     They  steal  into 
it  as  soon  as  it  is  the  new  moon,  to  pick  up  bones 
and    noxious    herbs.      They   come    along    barefoot, 
with  their  hair  flowing  and  their  robes  tucked  up. 
They   alarm    the   neighbours   with   their   cries.       A 
hollow  is  made  in  the  ground  with  their  nails,  and  as 
they  rend  a  black  lamb  piecemeal  with  their  teeth, 
its  bloc  !  drops  into  it.     As  the  ghosts  of  the  dead 
come  to  this  ghastly  banquet,  they  are  questioned  by 
the  beldames.     Then  they  take  two  images.     One  of 
wool  stands  for  one  of  the  witches.      The  other,  of 
wax,  is  for  the  man  whom  she  wishes  to  punish  for 
his  falseness.     In  mystical  gestures  she  indicates  the 
torture  which  is  to  befal  him.     As  they  pray  to  the 
powers  of  hell,  infernal  hounds  and  snakes  glide  over 
the   spot.     The   very   moon    turns    red.     Since   the 
muzzle  of  a  wolf  acted  as  a  counter  charm  against 
witches  (it  was  often  nailed  upon  the  gates  of  country 
houses,  like  our  horse-shoes),  they  proceed  to  bury 
one  away.    Then  they  set  about  burning  the  image  of 
wax.     As  it  melts  away,  the  man  for  whom  it  stands, 


170        THE  WORSHIP   OF  THE   ROMANS 

melts  out  of  life,  like  him  on  whom  Sister  Helen 
exercised  her  arts.  It  was  believed  upon  the  death 
of  Germanicus,  that  in  like  manner  he  had  been  the 
victim  of  Piso.  His  name  was  found  written  upon 
tablets  of  lead,  together  with  curses,  by  which  he 
was  consigned  to  the  infernal  gods.1 

Magical  arts  were  also  used  in  the  service  of 
tenderer  feelings.  The  witch  who  was  practising 
upon  the  love  of  a  youth,  would  make  an  effigy 
of  him.  This  she  bound  with  threads  of  divers 
colours,  and  carried  it  thrice  round  an  altar.  By 
this  means  he  was  entangled  in  his  passion.  Next 
she  put  clay  and  wax  and  bay  leaves  into  the  fire. 
As  the  clay  grew  firm,  the  wax  melted,  and  the  laurel 
burned  in  the  flame,  so  Daphnis'  love  would  endure, 
his  heart  melt,  and  he  himself  burn  with  love.  There 
is  a  prescription  in  a  sixteenth  century  manuscript  at 
Nuremberg,  ad  amorem  in  mulieribus.  By  burning 
a  rue  plant  with  various  precautions,  the  affection  of 
any  given  lady  might  be  secured.  As  the  rue  burnt 
in  the  embers,  so  her  heart  was  to  be  kindled.3 

When  we  bring  the  principles  that  we  have 
already  traced  in  early  thought  to  bear  upon  these 
practices,  their  meaning  becomes  clear.  The  witches 
relied  in  the  main  upon  the  efficacy  of  imitation ; 
they  were  Symbolists.  For  them  likeness  of  gesture, 
or  of  form,  did  more  than  foreshadow ;  it  actually 

1  Tac.  Ann.  ii.  69  ;  supra,  p.  40. 

2  Virg.  Eclog.  viii.  74.     Rhein.  Mm.  xlix.  43. 


ROMAN   MAGIC  171 

brought  about  what  they  intended.  So,  at  least  they 
seem  to  have  thought.  Although  they  never  raised 
their  concrete  concepts  to  the  purity  of  the  idea,  we 
may  perhaps  be  allowed  to  do  this  for  them.  They 
would  doubtless  have  admitted  also,  if  questioned,  that 
they  gave  a  very  broad  interpretation  to  the  principle 
of  identity.  It  was  enough  for  them  if  they  could 
gain  possession  of  a  lock  of  hair,  or  some  article  of 
wear,  to  get  anybody  entirely  into  their  power. 
Through  that  part  of  the  individual  in  question  (for 
is  it  not  clear  that  what  we  have  possessed  at  any 
time  becomes  a  part  of  us  ?),  they  could  do  with  him 
what  they  liked. 

When  they  came  to  the  written  or  spoken  word, 
their  contemporaries  were  not  less  impressed  by 
their  resources.  As  they  muttered  in  the  lonely 
cemeteries,  one  was  filled  with  alarm.  Were  they 
going  to  draw  down  the  moon  out  of  heaven  ?  It  was 
believed  that  they  had  the  power.  Hey  presto  !  And 
it  was  done — if,  that  is,  the  witch  knew  just  the  right 
formula.1  They  had  hosts  of  servants  under  their 
control.  You  might  hear  them  questioning  the  dead, 
and  getting  their  replies  in  the  squeaky  yet  stern 
accents  of  the  dwellers  by  Acheron's  banks.  In  their 
more  appalling  moments  the  wizards  rose  even  to 
higher  flights  than  their  sisters.  They  claimed  to  dis- 
pose of  the  whole  realm  of  spirits  in  the  name  of  the 
Supreme  Being.     "  I  am  BARBARADONAI,"  says 

1  Prop.  I.  i.  19. 


172        THE   WORSHIP   OF   THE   ROMANS 

an  enchanter,  "who  conceals  the  stars,  the  shining 
lord  of  heaven,  the  master  of  the  universe." '  In 
New  York  there  is  a  negro  drug-seller,  who  has  the 
name  of  being  the  most  successful  wizard  in  that 
abode  of  success.  Like  his  Greek  brother,  he  speaks 
in  the  name  of  "the  Great  Sovereign  of  the 
Universe." 

1  Rhein.  Mus.  xlix.  52. 


DIVINATION    AND    PROPHECY 


MAGIC,  as  it  dies  away,  passes  through  the 
intermediate  stage  of  divination.  The  wizard 
was  credited  at  one  time  with  the  power  of  governing 
the  future.  When  his  claims  were  no  longer  ad- 
mitted, it  was  still  thought  that  he  could  forecast 
what  was  to  come.  If  special  sources  of  power  no 
longer  were  accessible,  at  least — so  the  fancy  ran 
— there  were  secret  channels  through  which  indi- 
cations of  the  future  might  reach  mankind.  The 
religion  of  the  Roman  State  exhibits  this  transition 
to  us  very  clearly.  We  just  catch  traces  in  it  of 
that  early  time  in  which  it  was  wonder-working. 
For  the  most  part,  however,  it  has  already  passed, 
in  historical  times,  to  its  later  form.  It  interprets 
the  divine  will  by  the  tokens  that  are  disclosed  to 
the  officers  of  the  State.  Thunder,  the  cries  and 
flight  of  birds,  the  entrails  of  the  sacrificial  victim, 
these  foreshadow  what  is  to  come,  to  eyes  that  have 
been  trained  in  accordance  with  ancestral  precedents. 
Here  again  we  shall  find  the  closest  fellow-feeling 
between  the  religion  of  the  State  and  of  the  individual. 
Hence  it  will  be  possible  to  blend  in  one  account 


174        THE   WORSHIP   OF  THE   ROMANS 

the  beliefs  and  practices  of  both  governors  and 
governed. 

Divination  was  reduced  to  a  science  by  the  Stoics. 
Cicero  borrows  wholesale  from  them  in  the  account 
that  he  gives  of  it  in  the  first  book  De  Divinatione. 
It  is  noteworthy  how  far  the  show  of  system  goes 
in  commending  the  most  fanciful  and  absurd  state- 
ments to  a  certain  class  of  minds.  Many  of  Cicero's 
contemporaries,  and  among  them  his  brother  Quin- 
tus,  repeated  with  great  edification  the  lessons  they 
had  received  from  their  Greek  friends.  Divination, 
we  are  assured,  is  of  two  kinds.1  It  may  proceed 
by  system,  or  without  system ;  it  is  artificial  or 
natural.  On  the  one  hand,  we  make  use  of  the 
symbols  to  which  the  observation  of  antiquity  has 
attached  a  meaning.  The  behaviour  of  birds,  the 
appearance  of  the  intestines  of  the  sacred  ox  or 
sheep ;  from  such  hints  as  these  we  can  infer  what 
is  about  to  happen.  On  the  other  hand,  there  are 
those  who  have  presentiments  of  the  future  in  the 
troubling  of  their  spirit,  when  it  seems  to  move  in 
freedom  from  its  entanglements.  This  happens  to 
mankind  generally  in  dreams,  and  also  to  those 
who  prophesy  when  they  are  in  a  state  of  frenzy. 

This  distinction  will   be  useful   to  us  still.     We 

shall  find  it  advantageous  to  treat  first  of  what  the 

Stoics  called   natural   divination.      In   taking  leave 

of  the  Roman  witches,  we  noticed  the  supremacy 

1  Cic  Div.  i.  34. 


DIVINATION  AND   PROPHECY  175 

they  were  believed  to  exercise  over  spirits,  and  of 
the  dead  in  particular.  Magic  was  referred  to  the 
operation  of  spirits.  The  same  agencies  were  believed 
to  bring  certain  knowledge  to  the  dreamer.  Near 
Laurentum  was  a  spot  called  Albunea.  Here  a 
sulphur  spring  welled  up  in  the  middle  of  a  great 
wood.  It  was  resorted  to  by  all  the  country  round. 
The  worshipper  offered  sacrifice,  and  slept  on  the 
skins  of  the  victims.  In  his  slumbers  he  heard 
strange  voices,  and  enjoyed  the  converse  of  the 
gods ;  while  before  his  eyes  there  flitted  the  strange 
phantoms  of  souls. 

At  other  times  the  human  body  was  occupied 
by  a  foreign  spirit.  The  seer  was  filled  with  heaven, 
and  celestial  influences.  His  stature  was  increased, 
and  a  certain  majesty  was  poured  upon  him  ;  Deus 
inclusus  corpore  humano — "  God  dwelling  in  a  human 
body" — says  Cicero.  And  the  words  that  fell  from 
the  lips  of  the  prophet  seemed  to  be  dictated  by 
the  gods.  Rome  had  not  to  go  back  to  legendary 
times  for  these  inspired  utterances.  In  the  middle 
of  the  second  war  with  Carthage,  there  were  pub- 
lished two  prophecies  of  Marcius,  and  Livy  is  enabled 
to  furnish  us  with  specimens  of  them.  Cicero  speaks 
of  prophecies  attributed  to  another  seer,  Publicius, 
and  also  of  mysteries  of  Apollo,  as  being  current 
in  his  time.1 

Utterances  of  this  kind  were  thought  to  have  a 

1  Supra,  p.  42.    Virg.  Aen.  vii.  83.    Livy,  xxv.  12.    Cic.  Div,  ii.  113. 


176        THE    WORSHIP    OF   THE    ROMANS 

permanent  value.  They  were  collected,  and  consulted 
in  times  of  perplexity.  The  most  famous  of  these 
collections  was  attributed  to  the  Sibyl  of  Cumae,  one 
of  those  majestic  figures  who  overshadow  the  simple 
singing-maidens  of  the  country.  In  heroic  times, 
Aeneas  is  represented  as  promising  to  the  priestess 
of  Cumae  to  found  that  sacred  college  which  was  en- 
trusted with  the  Sibylline  books.  In  the  time  of  the 
later  monarchy,  her  successor — so  the  legend  ran — 
offered  her  collection  in  nine  books  to  King  Tarquinius 
Priscus  for  ^"300.  The  king  thought  the  price  was 
exorbitant.  Thereupon  she  burnt  three  of  the  books, 
and  still  demanded  the  same  amount.  Again  he 
refused  to  buy,  and  again  she  burnt  three  more  of 
the  books.  The  king  became  alarmed,  and  agreed 
to  pay  the  full  price  for  the  remaining  three.  "  It 
seems  probable,"  says  Mr.  Paley,  "  that  these  far- 
famed  books  were — in  part,  at  least — the  prophets  of 
the  Old  Testament."  He  found  reason  for  believing 
also  that  the  burnt  volumes  contained  the  least  valu- 
able part  of  the  whole.  It  must  be  said,  however, 
that  no  reasons  of  weight  can  be  alleged  in  favour  of 
Mr.  Paley's  fanciful  assumption.  The  three  sacred 
books  were  entrusted  at  first  to  two  guardians ;  a 
number  increased  to  ten  in  367  B.C.,  and  to  fifteen 
in  the  time  of  Sulla.  They  held  their  office  for 
life,  and  were  exempt  from  all  military  and  civil 
obligations.  The  books  were  kept  in  the  crypt  of 
the   great   Capitoline   Temple,  and   were   preserved 


DIVINATION   AND   PROPHECY  177 

there  until  the  conflagration  of  83  B.C.  "  The  oracles 
which  are  now  extant,"  says  Dionysius,  "have  been 
brought  together  from  various  places  ;  some  from  the 
cities  of  Italy :  others  from  Erythrae,  in  Asia,  envoys 
being  sent  to  transcribe  them,  by  order  of  the  senate. 
Others  again  were  written  down  by  private  indi- 
viduals, among  which  are  many  spurious  ones. 
These  may  be  detected  by  their  acrostic  character."1 
Out  of  those  which  were  so  selected,  the  pontiffs 
put  together  about  a  thousand  lines  in  all.  The 
partisans  of  Caesar  produced  some  verses  in  acrostics, 
which  were  professedly  Sibylline.  These  enjoined 
on  the  Romans  to  make  him  king  in  name  who 
was  already  king  in  deed,  if  they  wished  to  be  safe. 
Cicero  speaks  of  them  as  obvious  forgeries.  When 
Augustus  became  chief  pontiff,  he  made  a  fresh 
recension  of  all  the  floating  prophetic  writings  which 
were  current,  to  the  number  of  two  thousand,  in  his 
time  ;  he  retained  those  only  which  were  manifestly 
Sibylline  in  character.  These  he  put  in  two  cases, 
under  the  great  Palatine  statue  of  that  Apollo  under 
whose  inspiration  the  mysterious  verses  were  spoken. 
In  the  year  32  A.D.,  one  of  the  college  of  fifteen, 
Caninius  Gallus,  thought  that  a  book  which  went 
by  the  name  of  the  Sibyl  should  be  added  to  the 
sacred  collection.  A  motion  to  this  effect  was  carried 
in  the  senate.  Tiberius  thereupon  sent  down  a 
message,  and  blamed  the  procedure  adopted.     The 

1  Fasti,  iv.  257.     D.  II.  iv.  62. 
M 


178        THE   WORSHIP    OF   THE   ROMANS 

sacred  college  included  five  "  masters "  in  its  num- 
bers, and  the  duty  was  theirs,  rather  than  of  the 
Senate,  to  read  and  estimate  the  hymns  offered  for 
insertion. 

The  hymns  of  all  the  Sibyls  were  extant  in  the 
time  of  Lactantius.  The  sayings  attributed  to  the 
Erythraean  Sibyl  include  some  striking  statements  of 
monotheistic  belief.  But  the  line  in  the  famous 
fourth  eclogue  of  Virgil : 

The  last  times  foretold  in  the  song  of  Cumae  are  at  hand, 

established  the  authority  of  the  Cumaean  Sibyl  in 
the  early  Church.  The  Sibylline  books  recognised 
the  division  of  time  into  ages  in  a  manner  that 
appealed  to  men  who  lived  in  expectation  of  the  end 
of  the  world.  In  the  solemn  hymn  which  is  sung  at 
the  mass  for  the  dead,  the  Sibyl  is  joined  with  David 
as  witness  to  that  day  of  wrath  which  shall  bring 
time  to  a  close  amid  fire  and  ashes.  Augustine  was 
once  conversing  with  a  friend  of  high  rank,  who 
produced  a  Greek  book,  which,  he  said,  contained  the 
hymns  of  the  Erythraean  Sibyl.  He  pointed  out  an 
acrostic  which  contained  apparently  the  name  of 
Christ.  Augustine,  after  quoting  it,  says  that  the 
sibyl  must  be  regarded  as  of  those  who  belong  to 
the  kingdom  of  God.1 

In  this  respect,  at  least,  the  Christian  religion  was 
represented   as   gathering  up   into    itself  the   nobler 

1  Tac.  Ann.  vi.   12.     Lact.  hist.  i.  6.     Aug.  Civ.  Dei,  xviii.  23. 


DIVINATION   AND   PROPHECY  179 

aspirations  of  paganism,  rather  than  as  opposed  to  it, 
root  and  branch. 

There  is  a  curious  story,  which  reminds  the  reader 
somewhat  of  the  finding  of  the  law  in  the  time  of 
Josiah.  In  the  year  181  B.C.,  some  farm  labourers 
were  at  work  on  the  land  of  a  public  notary.  They 
came  across  two  stone  chests,  about  eight  feet  long 
and  four  feet  wide,  the  coverings  of  which  were  luted 
in  with  lead.  Each  case  was  inscribed  both  in  Latin 
and  in  Greek  characters,  one  as  containing  the  body 
of  Numa  Pompilius,  son  of  Pompo,  king  of  the 
Romans ;  the  other  as  containing  the  books  of 
Numa  Pompilius.  When  they  were  examined  by 
the  notary,  the  coffin  of  the  king  was  said  to  be 
empty.  But  the  other  contained  two  bundles  of 
books,  which  were  not  only  perfect,  but  also  quite 
fresh  in  appearance,  recentissima  specie.  Each  bundle 
contained  seven  rolls.  One  set  were  in  Latin,  and 
treated  of  the  pontifical  law ;  the  other  set  were  in 
Greek,  and  contained  a  system  of  philosophy,  which 
was  said  to  be  that  of  Pythagoras.  As  was 
customary,  the  city  praetor  had  them  submitted  to 
him,  and  finding  that  they  were  dangerous  to 
religion,  he  commanded  them  to  be  burnt.  This 
took  place  before  a  public  assembly,  by  the  hands  of 
the  assistants  at  the  sacrifices.1 

During  the  long  history  of  Rome,  whenever  the 
popular  mind  was  stirred  by  those  portents  and 
1  Liv.  xl.  29. 


180        THE   WORSHIP   OF   THE   ROMANS 

wonders  which  we  have  already  examined,  the  sacred 
college  were  bidden  to  betake  themselves  to  the 
Sibylline  prophecies,  and  to  declare  the  measures 
which  were  there  indicated  as  needful  in  order  that 
the  gods  might  be  appeased.  In  fact  the  board  of 
fifteen  was  a  powerful  engine  in  repressing  the  super- 
stitious ferments  to  which  the  announcement  of 
wonders,  and  the  utterances  of  popular  oracles,  gave 
rise.  The  rites  prescribed  by  them  generally  sufficed 
to  allay  the  religious  scruples  of  the  citizens.  On 
the  other  hand  it  was  illegal  for  a  private  individual 
to  announce  the  will  of  heaven,  or  indeed,  to  be  in 
possession  of  oracles  at  all.  Three  years  after  the 
battle  of  Cannae,  the  city  praetor  gave  orders  that 
all  books  of  prophecy,  of  prayer,  and  of  sacrifice 
should  be  brought  in  to  him  before  an  appointed 
day.  This  order  is  echoed  in  an  injunction,  which 
Augustus  directed  against  the  private  possession  of 
books  of  prophecy.  Here  he  was  true  to  the 
traditional  policy  of  the  Roman  Government,  by 
which  all  extraordinary  procedure  in  religion  was 
kept  under  its  control.1 

In  a  like  spirit,  Tiberius  attempted  to  put  down 
the  oracles  which  abounded  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
Rome,  but  with  imperfect  success.  The  Lots  of 
Praeneste  were  too  deeply  rooted  in  the  reverence 
of  the  public.  When  the  cautious  Emperor  yielded 
to  this  feeling,  a  miraculous  explanation  was  to  hand. 

1  Liv    xxv.  I,     Tac.  Ann.  vi.  12. 


DIVINATION   AND   PROPHECY  181 

It  was  said  that  the  lots  were  put  in  a  sealed  case 
and  brought  to  Rome.  When  the  case  was  opened 
they  were  no  longer  to  be  found,  but  reappeared 
when  the  box  was  taken  back  to  Praeneste.  In 
accordance  with  the  traditions  of  his  house,  the 
Emperor  was  somewhat  contemptuous  in  his  attitude 
towards  the  current  beliefs.  There  was  a  great  flood 
at  Rome  in  the  year  following  upon  the  death  of 
Augustus,  and  a  proposal  was  made  in  the  Senate 
that  the  Sibylline  books  should  be  consulted. 
Tiberius,  however,  refused,  and  sent  for  the  water 
engineer,  aerator  aquarum.  We  can  understand  the 
dislike  such  a  character  as  his  would  inspire  among 
the  more  superstitious,  and  might  even  be  led  to 
discount  the  slanders  which  befoul  his  name,  when 
we  recall  the  abuse  which  the  Jesuits  of  the  seven- 
teenth century  poured  forth  upon  Scaliger.  He  was 
as  little  likely  to  obtain  justice  at  the  hands  of  the 
people,  as  of  his  political  opponents,  the  high 
nobility. 

The  use  of  lots  seems  to  have  depended  at  first 
upon  a  magic  property  attributed  to  them.  It  is  in 
some  such  confidence  that  the  fetish  priest  in  Guinea 
shuffles  the  strips  of  leather  that  make  up  his  bundle. 
Although  in  later  times  the  Roman  saw,  in  the  em- 
ployment of  the  lots,  an  appeal  to  the  goddess  of 
chance,  he  still  thought  of  them  as  possessing  a 
lucky  character  in  themselves.  When  we  throw  a 
coin  into  the  air,  in  order  to  decide  something  by 


182        THE  WORSHIP   OF  THE   ROMANS 

the  way  in  which  it  falls,  we  see  in  the  act  nothing 
beyond  a  purely  mechanical  process.  We  have  to 
make  at  least  two  corrections  in  our  thought,  if  we 
wish  to  enter  into  the  Roman  feeling.  In  the  first 
place,  there  is  the  magical  property  of  the  lot  itself, 
as  we  have  just  seen.  Further,  the  behaviour  of  the 
lot  bears  witness  to  some  influence ;  perhaps  to  the 
will  of  some  spirit.1 

The  Romans  were  in  this  respect  at  the  same 
stage  of  culture  as  their  northern  neighbours.  The 
Germans,  say  Tacitus,  had  a  simple  way  of  dealing 
with  lots.  They  cut  off  a  branch  from  a  fruit- 
bearing  tree,  and  divided  it  into  pieces,  each  of  which 
they  marked.  These  were  scattered  at  random  over 
a  cloth.  If  the  appeal  was  a  public  one,  a  priest 
officiated  ;  if  a  private  one,  then  the  head  of  the 
family.  He  prayed  to  the  gods,  and,  looking  up  to 
heaven,  picked  up  three  of  the  pieces  of  wood  in 
succession.  These  he  interpreted  according  to  the 
marks  made  upon  them.2 

The  Lots  of  Praeneste  were  connected  with  the 
impressive  worship  of  Fortuna  Primigenia.  She, 
"  the  eldest  born,"  was  regarded  as  the  mother  of 
Jupiter  and  of  Juno,  and  held  them  as  children  in 
her  arms.  Questions  were  put  to  her.  The  answers 
were  given  by  oaken  lots,  which  a  boy  drew  from 
a  case  made  of  the  wood  of  a  sacred  olive  tree ; 
they  were  shuffled  carefully  before  they  were  drawn. 

1  Tylor,  Prim.  Cult.  i.  78.  2  Gcr mania ,  10. 


DIVINATION   AND   PROPHECY  183 

Coins  are  extant  on  which  the  box  and  the  boy 
appear.  Elsewhere  such  lots  were  made  of  poplar 
wood  or  of  fir.  The  story  of  the  repulse  of  Tiberius 
shows  that  they  were  really  viewed  as  fetishes.1 

In  drawing  lots  the  Romans  sometimes  used  an 
urn  with  a  narrow  neck.  When  it  was  filled  with 
water  only  one  lot  could  rise  to  the  top  at  a  time. 
The  number  of  them  was  carefully  adjusted  before 
the  drawing  took  place  to  the  number  of  the  par- 
ticipants. Horace  compares  the  call  of  destiny, 
whether  it  summons  us  to  die,  or  to  a  change  of 
fortune,  with  the  appearance  of  the  lot  at  the  brim 
of  the  urn.  "All  we  are  driven  to  the  same  goal. 
Sooner  or  later  the  lot  of  each  will  come  forth  from 
the  urn,  and  will  set  us  on  board  ship  for  that  exile 
which  never  ends  !  " 2 

The  lot  was  employed  in  some  of  the  most  im- 
portant transactions  of  government.  It  determined 
the  provinces  which  fell  to  the  lot  of  the  consuls, 
and  selected  the  quaestors  who  should  preside  over 
important  trials.  This  mode  of  appealing  to  chance 
was  easy  to  employ  and  interpret.  We  may  set  it 
first  among  the  artificial  modes  of  divination. 

We  now  pass  to  omens  which  require  special  skill 
in  drawing  out  their  meaning. 

Perhaps  the  most  characteristic  mode  of  divining 
at  Rome  was  by  observing  the  flight  and  the  song 
of  birds.     Hence  they  were  classified  into  the  singers, 

1  Cic.  Div.  ii.  86.  2  Hor.  Odes,  II.  iii,  25. 


i84        THE   WORSHIP    OF   THE  ROMANS 

oscines,  under  which  head  came  the  raven,  the  crow, 
and  the  owl,  and  the  flyers,  praepetes.  It  was  the 
first  bird  seen  or  heard  that  gave  the  omen.  This 
was  auspicious  as  a  rule  when  the  bird  appeared  on 
the  left.  Meaningless  as  all  this  appears  now  to  us, 
and  indeed  to  the  cultured  Roman  of  the  time  of 
Cicero,  it  was  once  viewed  as  the  communication  of 
spirit  to  spirit.  As  the  countryman  walked  round 
his  land  he  was  greeted  and  warned  by  the  winged 
inhabitants  of  the  trees.  But  it  was  only  to  "  the 
people  of  the  spear  "  that  the  wood  spirits  so  revealed 
the  future.  No  plebeian,  no  newcomer  that  is,  could 
so  ascertain  the  will  of  the  gods.  One  who  was  not 
a  patrician  could  not  take  the  auspices,  even  though 
he  were  a  magistrate.  "  According  to  the  custom  of 
the  elders,"  says  Livy,  "  the  auspices  were  confined 
to  the  fathers."  The  belief  that  the  birds  were 
endowed  with  some  measure  of  insight  was  familiar 
to  Job.  In  order  to  mark  the  secrecy  of  wisdom, 
he  says  that  it  is  "  kept  close  from  the  fowls  of 
the  air."1 

If  the  Lots  of  Praeneste  remind  us  of  fetishes, 
the  augurs  remind  us  of  medicine  men.  They  seem 
to  come  from  an  immemorial  past.  Some  ancient 
rules  bear  testimony  to  the  importance  of  their 
office.  Once  an  augur  always  an  augur.  When 
other  priests  were  condemned  and  sent  into  exile, 
their  place  was  filled  by  another ;  an  augur,  though 

1  Job,  xxviii.  21. 


DIVINATION    AND    PROPHECY  185 

he  were  found  guilty  of  the  gravest  crimes,  kept  his 
office  for  life.  Again,  if  he  had  a  sore  upon  his  body 
he  was  not  allowed  to  take  the  sacred  seat  and  watch 
the  birds.  There  was  a  similar  Levitical  injunction. 
"  No  man  that  was  scabbed  might  offer  fire  offerings." 
The  augurs  were  not  allowed  to  have  coverings  upon 
their  lamps,  but  must  leave  them  open  always.1 

Like  many  other  offices  in  the  religion  of  Rome, 
that  of  augur  was  said  to  have  been  instituted  by 
King  Numa.  According  to  tradition  there  were  no 
augurs  in  the  reign  of- Romulus.  At  first  they  were 
three  in  number,  one  for  each  of  the  tribes.  When 
a  plebeian  was  chosen  as  dictator  in  328  B.C.,  the 
augurs  were  consulted  as  to  the  validity  of  the 
election.  They  at  once  declared  that  the  omens  had 
been  adverse.  This  did  great  credit  to  their  insight. 
For  the  dictator  was  named  at  night  and  in  silence 
by  the  consul  in  his  camp,  and  he  communicated 
with  no  one  as  to  the  election.  The  augurs,  however, 
though  they  were  sitting  at  Rome,  perceived,  doubt- 
less by  a  sort  of  telepathy,  what,  in  particular,  vitiated 
the  transaction.  But  all  this  insight  went  for  nothing. 
In  the  year  300  B.C.  the  plebeians  obtained  entry  into 
the  sacred  college  itself,  and  five  augurs  were  elected 
from  among  them.  We  can  imagine  the  horror  with 
which  such  an  innovation  was  viewed  by  the  more 
conservative  Romans.2 

The  most  famous  name  in  the  history  of  Roman 

1   Plut.  R.  Q.  99,  73,  72.  !  Liv.  iv.  4 ;  viii.  23. 


186        THE   WORSHIP   OF   THE   ROMANS 

augury  was  that  of  Attus  Navius.  From  his  earliest 
years  he  was  marked  out  as  a  seer.  As  a  boy,  he 
got  a  meagre  livelihood  by  tending  swine.  One  day 
one  of  his  charges  were  missing,  and  the  poor  swine- 
herd vowed  to  give  the  largest  bunch  of  grapes  in 
the  vineyard  to  the  god,  if  the  pig  were  found  again. 
When  this  happened,  he  might  have  been  expected 
to  trust  his  eyesight  in  picking  out  the  largest  bunch  ; 
but  Attus  was  not  an  ordinary  person.  After  the 
wandering  pig  was  found,  Attus  stood  in  the  middle 
of  the  vineyard  with  his  look  directed  towards  the 
south.  He  marked  off  the  sky  into  four  parts,  and 
the  birds  warned  him  off  three.  He  then  divided 
the  fourth  quarter  into  regions,  and  with  the  help 
of  his  winged  advisers,  lighted  upon  a  bunch  of 
marvellous  size.  "  So  we  find  it  written,"  says 
Cicero.  When  this  feat  of  Attus  became  known 
he  acquired  great  reputation,  and  was  consulted  by 
all  the  neighbourhood.  His  fame  went  on  spreading 
until  it  reached  King  Tarquin  the  First,  at  Rome, 
and  he  was  summoned  to  court.  The  king  proposed 
to  make  an  alteration  in  the  constitution  of  the 
Roman  cavalry,  and  the  augur  opposed  this  on  the 
ground  that  what  had  once  been  done  in  obedience 
to  augury,  could  not  be  altered  or  added  to  unless 
the  birds  were  favourable.  The  king  was  angry  and 
ridiculed  the  augural  discipline.  "  Come  now,  oh 
prophet,"  he  said,  "  discover  by  augury  whether  what 
I  am  thinking  of,  can  be  done."     Attus  obeyed  and 


DIVINATION   AND   PROPHECY  187 

answered  "  Yes."  The  king  then  said,  "  I  was 
thinking  that  a  grindstone  could  be  cut  with  a 
razor."  And  he  commanded  Attus  to  make  the 
attempt.  The  stone  was  brought  into  the  presence 
of  the  king,  and  before  the  eyes  of  the  assembly 
Attus  cut  it  in  two  with  the  razor.  After  this 
marvellous  proof  of  his  powers  Attus  was  at  once 
appointed  court  augur,  and  was  resorted  to  by  the 
people  also  with  reference  to  their  own  private  affairs. 
The  stone  and  razor  were  buried  on  the  very  spot 
where  all  this  happened.  An  enclosure  kept  off 
the  profane  from  the  sacred  spot.  The  statue  of 
Attus,  with  his  head  veiled  as  if  exercising  his  art, 
was  set  up  on  the  left  of  the  steps  of  the  senate- 
house  for  a  memorial  to  those  who  came  after,  ad 
posteros  miraculi  eins  monumentinn.  "So  great," 
says  Livy,  "was  the  respect  which  was  thenceforth 
paid  to  the  priesthood  of  the  augurs,  that  nothing 
was  done  by  the  Romans  either  at  home  or  abroad 
without  consulting  the  augurs,  and  where  the  birds 
were  not  favourable  all  transactions  were  invalid." l 

In  addition  to  public  auspices  private  ones  were 
taken  upon  all  occasions  of  importance.  At  marriage 
ceremonies,  the  bird  watcher,  auspex,  had  to  take  care 
that  nothing  should  be  done  in  defiance  of  the  birds. 
The  presence  of  this  official  was  regarded  as  essential, 
long  after  the  practice  of  taking  the  auspices  had  fallen 
into  disuse.     When  Marcia  was  married  again  to  the 

1  Cic.  Div.  i.  31  ff.     Liv.  i.  36. 


188        THE   WORSHIP   OF   THE   ROMANS 

younger  Cato,  every  circumstance  of  merriment  and 
feasting  was  omitted.  "  They  are  joined  in  silence, 
content  that  Brutus  is  auspex."1 

The  spot  from  which  the  auspices  were  taken  at 
Rome,  auguraculum,  was  on  the  Capitol.  Here  the 
augur  took  his  seat  with  veiled  head,  holding  in  his 
right  hand  a  curved  wand,  or  lituus,  which  was  free 
from  knots.  Then  he  looked  forth  over  the  city  and 
country,  and  after  a  prayer  to  the  gods,  marked  off 
the  regions  of  the  sky  from  east  to  west.  He  declared 
the  right  hand  to  be  towards  the  south  and  the  left 
towards  the  north.  No  buildings  were  allowed  to  be 
erected  which  interfered  with  his  outlook.  The  limit 
within  which  the  auspices  were  viewed,  was  set  by  the 
pomoerium,  or  open  space  within  and  without  the  city 
wall.  At  first  the  birds  were  observed  within  the 
boundaries  of  the  Palatine  Hill.  This  space  grew 
with  the  city,  but  did  not  include  the  Aventine  Hill. 
Neither  Servius  Tullius,  nor  Sulla,  nor  Caesar  brought 
it  into  the  declared  bounds  of  the  city  for  augural 
purposes.  This  was  left  to  the  emperor  Claudius.  The 
leaving  out  of  the  Aventine  was  accounted  for  by  a 
story  about  Romulus  and  Remus.  The  two  brothers 
were  rivals  for  the  honour  of  giving  a  name  to  the 
new  city,  and  agreed  to  leave  the  decision  to  the 
guardian  spirits  of  the  neighbourhood.  Romulus 
took  the  Palatine  Hill  for  the  field  of  his  augury ; 
Remus,  the  Aventine.     Remus  was  the  first  to  have 

1  Lucan,  ii.  371. 


DIVINATION   AND   PROPHECY  189 

a  good  omen.  He  saw  six  vultures.  Romulus,  how- 
ever, saw  twelve.  The  partisans  of  each  acclaimed 
their  leader  as  king.  A  tumult  followed,  and  Remus 
was  killed.  "  Hence,"  said  Messalla,  "  all  those  who 
have  advanced  the  sacred  bounds  of  the  city,  have 
excluded  the  Aventine  as  being  possessed  by  birds  of 
ill  omen."  The  augural  wand  of  Romulus,  which  he 
employed  on  this  occasion,  was  preserved  in  the 
court-house  of  the  Salii,  on  the  Palatine.  Although 
the  building  was  burnt  down  on  one  occasion,  the 
wand  remained  unharmed.1 

When  a  general  was  in  the  field,  he  took  the  omens 
before  the  battle  from  the  behaviour  of  the  sacred 
chickens.  They  were  kept  in  a  cage.  When  the 
auspices  were  taken  the  attendants,  pullarii,  threw 
them  a  cake.  If  the  fragments  fell  from  their  beaks 
to  the  ground  as  they  pecked  at  their  food,  the  omen 
was  good.  It  was  called  tripudium  solistimum,  in  the 
archaic  language  of  Roman  ritual.  At  the  moment 
of  taking  the  auspices,  the  general  summoned  a  skilled 
augur  to  his  side,  and  said  "  I  wish  you  to  help  me  in 
the  auspices."  "  I  have  heard,"  was  the  reply.  In 
order  that  they  might  be  taken  duly,  there  must  be  no 
interfering  circumstances.  The  absence  of  these  was 
called  silence.  The  general  proceeds  :  "  Say  whether 
there  seems  to  be  silence."  The  augur  looks  neither 
up  nor  around,  and  answers  that  there  seems  to 
be  silence.     "  Say  whether  they  will   feed."     "  They 

1  Liv.  i.  18,  7.     Gell.  N.  A.  xiii.  14      Cic.  Div.  i.  30. 


i9o        THE   WORSHIP   OF   THE   ROMANS 

feed,"  is  the  response.  It  was  a  bad  omen  if  they 
were  slow  in  coming  out  of  their  cage,  or  if  they 
refused  to  drink.  The  hunger  and  the  thirst  of  the 
chickens  seem  to  have  been  interpreted  as  signs  of 
their  soundness.1 

Once  in  a  war  with  the  Samnites,  the  ardour  of  the 
Roman  forces  was  so  great,  that  in  their  desire  for  the 
conflict,  those  who  were  officiating  at  the  auspices, 
falsely  reported  favourable  omens  to  the  general.  He 
gave  the  order  to  begin  battle,  but  was  informed  in 
the  meantime  of  the  deceit  that  had  been  practised. 
"  Let  him  who  assisted  at  the  auspices,"  he  cried, 
"  receive  the  penalty  if  he  gives  a  false  report.  His 
good  report  is  a  sufficient  omen  to  the  Roman  people 
and  the  army."  The  attendants  were  set  by  his 
orders  in  the  front  line  of  the  troops,  and  just  before 
the  engagement  began  the  guilty  man  fell,  pierced 
by  a  javelin.  "  The  gods  are  here  in  the  battle," 
shouted  the  general,  "and  the  guilty  man  is  punished." 
As  he  uttered  these  words  a  raven  croaked  loudly 
before  the  consul.  In  his  joy  at  this  augury,  he  de- 
clared that  the  gods  had  never  been  more  manifestly 
present  with  human  beings.2 

It  appears  from  this  that  the  augur  could  only 
report  the  auspices  when  he  was  called  upon.  The 
practical  sense  of  the  Romans  is  credited  sometimes 
with  this  contrivance,  by  which  the  omens  were  kept 
from  interfering  unduly  with  public  business.  In 
Cic.  Div.  ii.  71.     Plut.  def.  or.  49.  3  Liv.  x.  40. 


DIVINATION   AND    PROPHECY  191 

religion,  however,  we  must  be  on  our  guard  against 
applying  our  own  conceptions  of  what  is  reasonable 
to  ancient  customs.  The  augur  was  not  permitted  to 
intrude  unasked  upon  the  magistrate,  for  the  simple 
reason  that  the  magistrate  was  supposed  himself  to 
take  the  auspices,  and  the  augur  was  merely  his 
assistant.  "  In  the  discipline  of  the  augurs  it  is 
established,"  says  Pliny,  "  that  evil  omens  and 
auspices  have  no  bearing  upon  those  who  are  engaged 
in  any  undertaking,  if  they  say  that  they  have  not 
taken  note  of  them."  And  he  sees  in  this  a  mark  of 
the  divine  indulgence. 

At  the  same  time,  a  general  who  did  not  comply 
with  the  traditional  practice,  exposed  himself  to  severe 
accusations  if  he  failed  in  his  campaigns.  The 
disaster  of  Lake  Trasimenus  was  put  down  in  part 
to  the  neglect  of  the  consul  Flaminius,  who,  before 
setting  out,  had  omitted  to  take  the  auspices.  In  the 
first  Punic  war  a  Roman  admiral,  who  was  delayed 
by  the  refusal  of  the  sacred  chickens  to  eat,  ordered 
them  to  be  plunged  into  water  that  they  might  be 
compelled  to  drink.  But  his  impiety  was  followed  by 
the  defeat  of  his  fleet.1 

Folklore,  like  ancient  medicine,  is  anything  rather 
than  squeamish.  The  Etruscans  used  to  ascertain 
the  future  by  inspecting  the  entrails  of  the  victims 
used  in  sacrifices,  and  in  particular,  the  liver,  the 
lungs,  and  the  heart.  It  was  from  Etruria  that  the 
1  Liv.  xxii.  1.     Cic.  N.  D.  ii.  7. 


i92        THE   WORSHIP   OF   THE   ROMANS 

haruspices,  the  officiating  priests,  came  originally. 
Hence  when  the  Romans  were  at  war  with  their 
northern  neighbours,  they  were  deprived  of  the 
services  of  the  haruspices.  Not  to  be  beaten,  they 
kidnapped  a  Tuscan  priest,  and  learnt  from  him 
what  they  wanted.  Two  hundred  years  later  they 
were  still  sending  for  these  foreigners.  Cicero,  in 
his  ideal  body  of  law,  ordains  that  prodigies  and 
portents  should  be  referred  to  the  haruspices  of 
Etruria  at  the  discretion  of  the  Senate,  and  that 
Etruria  should  teach  the  discipline  to  the  chief 
magistrates.1 

The  head  of  the  liver  was  most  carefully  examined. 
If  it  was  lacking,  the  omen  was  of  the  worst  kind. 
It  happened  to  M.  Marcellus  just  before  he  went  to 
meet  his  death  fighting  against  Hannibal ;  to  Gaius 
Marius,  when  he  was  sacrificing  at  Utica  ;  to  Caligula, 
on  the  first  day  of  the  year  in  which  he  was  assas- 
sinated ;  and  to  his  successor,  Claudius,  in  the  month 
before  he  was  carried  off  by  poison.2  If  the  lung 
was  indented,  the  priest  put  off  the  business  about 
which  he  was  consulted.  The  heart  of  the  victim 
was  not  inspected  until  the  time  when  Pyrrhus  left 
Italy,  L.  Postumius  Albinus  being  the  king  of 
worship.  On  the  day  when  the  Dictator  Caesar 
began  to  wear  the  purple  and  to  employ  a  chair  of 
gold,  he  was  sacrificing,  and  found  no  heart  in  the 

1  Liv.  v.  17  ;  xxvii.  37.     Cic  Legg.  ii.  21. 

2  Plin.  A'.  //.  xi.  189.     Liv.  viii.  9. 


DIVINATION   AND   PROPHECY  193 

ox.  The  omen  was  undoubted.  There  was  great 
dispute,  however,  among  the  more  learned,  whether 
the  victim  could  have  lived  without  this  important 
organ,  or  whether  it  lost  it  at  the  time  of  the  sacrifice. 
On  the  other  hand,  when  Augustus  was  sacrificing 
at  Spoleto,  on  his  first  day  of  office,  the  livers  of 
six  victims  were  found  to  have  double  folds,  and 
it  was  prophesied  therefrom  that  he  should  double 
his  empire  within  the  year.  In  Brandenburg  this 
kind  of  omen  is  still  believed  in.  "  When  a  pig  is 
killed,  and  the  spleen  is  found  to  be  turned  over, 
there  will  be  another  overthrow,  namely,  a  death 
in  the  family  within  the  year."  This  mode  of  divin- 
ation, at  first  used  at  Rome  under  exceptional 
circumstances,  gained  its  place  alongside  the  more 
ancient  forms  of  divination  by  lot  and  by  the  obser- 
vation of  birds.  It  passed  into  private  use,  and 
the  viscera  of  frogs  and  dogs  were  consulted  by  the 
curious.1 

Thunder  would  seem  to  have  been  viewed  as 
ominous  from  very  early  times.  It  was  to  Etruria, 
however,  that  the  Romans  owed  their  more  developed 
system  of  divination  by  this  means.  While  other 
omens  were  not  thought  to  interfere  with  the  holding 
of  the  burgess  meetings,  an  ancient  commentary  said, 
"If  Jove  thunders  or  lightens,  it  is  wrong  to  hold 
them."  For  other  purposes  lightning,  provided  it 
came  from  the  left,  was  of  the  best  omen.     Before 

1  Cic.  Div.  i.  85.    Plin.  N.  U.  xi.  186.    Tylor,  Prim.  Cult.  i.  124. 

N 


i94        THE   WORSHIP   OF   THE   ROMANS 

the  comitia  were  held,  a  tent  was  pitched  outside 
the  city  in  order  to  observe  the  auspices.  The  tent 
was  not  thought  to  be  pitched  properly,  unless  the 
magistrate  took  the  auspices  before  crossing  the 
pomoerium.  When  Antony  adjourned  the  elections 
on  the  ground  of  an  adverse  omen,  he  did  so  as 
augur.  Cicero  reproached  him  with  not  knowing 
that  the  augur  had  merely  the  right  of  giving  a 
report,  and  that,  as  consul,  he  himself  had  the  right 
of  observing  the  heavens.1 

The  Etruscans  reduced  their  lightning  lore  to  an 
elaborate  system.  Their  scriptures  taught  that  nine 
gods  sent  the  lightning,  and  that  it  was  of  eleven 
kinds,  of  which  Jove  sent  three.  The  Romans  knew 
two  only  of  these  deities.  They  put  down  to  Jove 
lightning  that  came  in  the  day,  and  night  lightning 
to  Summanus.  Etruria  thought  further  that  some 
kinds  of  lightning  came  from  the  earth ;  those  which 
they  called  nether,  in/era,  were  especially  terrible 
and  accursed.  Much  weight  was  attributed  to  those 
omens  by  lightning  which  presented  themselves  to 
a  man  on  founding  his  household.2 

Roughly  speaking,  the  interest  of  the  Romans  in 
astrology  was  confined  at  first  to  the  themes  of 
Iopas,  the  bard  of  Carthage,  who  sang  of  the  wan- 
derings of  the  moon  and  the  sun's  eclipse.  Each 
month  began  with  the  new  moon,  and  the  midway 

1  Cic.  Div.  i.  33 ;  ii.  42.     Phil.  ii.  81. 

2  Plin.  N.H.  ii.  138. 


DIVINATION   AND   PROPHECY  195 

division  answered  to  the  full  moon.  Before  the 
secretary  of  Appius  Claudius  published  the  order 
of  the  year,  the  junior  pontiff  had  the  duty  of 
watching  for  the  new  moon,  and  of  reporting  her 
appearance  immediately  to  the  king  of  worship.  On 
the  night  of  the  3rd  of  September,  168  B.C.,  when 
the  Roman  forces  were  in  Macedonia,  there  was  an 
eclipse  of  the  moon.  This  occurrence,  which  other- 
wise would  have  been  regarded  as  a  terrible  portent 
by  the  soldiers,  was  viewed  with  less  alarm,  since 
a  military  tribune,  C.  Sulpicius  Gallus,  assembled  the 
troops  the  night  before  with  the  permission  of  the 
consul,  and  gave  a  lecture  on  the  approaching 
eclipse  of  the  moon,  in  which  he  showed  how  it 
was  caused  by  the  earth's  shadow.  The  lecturer 
obtained  a  brilliant  reputation  when  everything 
turned  out  as  he  had  prophesied.  The  spread  of 
astronomical  science  was  very  slow,  however.  A 
century  and  a  half  later,  it  was  remembered  with 
awe  that  the  orb  of  the  sun  was  pale  during  the 
year  in  which  Caesar  was  assassinated,  and  in  the 
time  of  the  war  with  Antony.1 

Systematic  astrology  obtained  a  footing  in  Italy, 
as  soon  as  Rome  came  into  close  contact  with  the 
East.  Cato  enjoined  upon  his  ideal  farm  bailiff  that 
he  was  not  to  consult  a  Chaldaean.  The  professors 
of  the  art  came  soon  so  prominently  into  notice  that 
the  praetor  peregrinus,  in  139  B.C.,  ordered  them  to 
1  Liv.  xliv.  37.     Plin.  N.  H.  ii.  98. 


i96        THE  WORSHIP   OF  THE   ROMANS 

get  clear  of  Italy  within  ten  days.  But  law  and 
order  were  no  more  successful  than  they  ever  are 
when  they  come  into  conflict  with  superstition. 
Fortunes  continued  to  be  told,  horoscopes  to  be  cast, 
predictions  to  be  made.  Although  no  reason  was  given 
for  them,  or  perhaps  could  be  given,  the  Romans  were 
glad  to  learn  such  important  facts  as  these,  that  the 
conjunction  of  Jupiter  or  Venus  with  the  Moon  was 
beneficial  at  the  birth  of  a  child,  while  her  conjunc- 
tion with  Mars  or  Saturn  was  adverse.  A  friend  of 
Cicero,  Lucius  Tarutius  Firmanus,  who  was  an  expert 
astrologer,  cast  the  horoscope  of  the  city,  and  ascer- 
tained that  it  was  indeed  founded  on  the  feast  of  the 
Parilia.  This  harmony  of  science  and  tradition  must 
have  been  welcomed,  especially  when  it  was  con- 
firmed by  detailed  facts.  Firmanus  assigned  to  the 
moon  her  exact  position.  She  was  in  the  constella- 
tion of  Libra  at  the  time.  He  was  thus  enabled  to 
go  on  to  predict  the  destiny  of  the  city.  This 
triumph  of  astrology  in  fields  where  by  the  nature  of 
the  case  verification  was  impossible,  is  somewhat 
overclouded,  when  Cicero  goes  on  to  tell  us  that  con- 
temporary astrologers  foretold  to  Crassus,  Pompey, 
and  Caesar,  that  they  should  die  in  old  age,  at  home, 
and  in  full  possession  of  their  reputation.  All  three 
died  violent  deaths.  Such,  alas,  is  the  fate  of 
prophecies  which  condescend  to  particulars ! 
Tarutius  also  supplied  a  number  of  most  precise 
and  interesting  details  concerning  the  birth,  the  life, 


DIVINATION  AND   PROPHECY  197 

and  the  death,  of  that  entirely  imaginary  person 
Romulus.  This  was  at  the  request  of  the  great 
savant  Varro.1 

Horace  was  fond  of  listening  to  the  astrologers 
who  practiced  their  art  in  the  purlieus  of  the  Great 
Circus.  He  did  not  know,  however,  what  his  own 
horoscope  was.  This  strikes  one  as  rather  a  mean 
trait  in  the  character  of  that  genial  man  of  the 
world.  He  used  often  to  get  an  afternoon's  amuse- 
ment in  this  way,  and  yet  never  put  his  hand  in  his 
pocket  and  patronised  the  adepts.  Possibly,  however, 
he  was  alarmed.  He  strongly  advises  a  lady  friend 
not  to  make  any  use  of  the  astrological  tables  of  the 
Chaldaeans.  He  requests  her  particularly  not  to  find 
out  the  term  of  life  appointed  for  him.  Perhaps  we 
can  appreciate  this  scruple  of  Horace  when  we  learn 
how  such  prophecies  had  an  unpleasant  way  of 
getting  themselves  realised  punctually,  or  even 
accelerated  by  officious  acquaintances.  Tables  of 
the  kind  to  which  Horace  refers,  were  employed  by 
an  adept  whose  acquaintance  I  had  the  pleasure  of 
making  a  short  time  since.2 

As  the  astrologers  rose  in  influence  and  favour, 
they  received  generally  the  more  dignified  name  of 
mathematicians,  mathematics  which  the  populace  had 
already  bestowed  upon  them.  Even  the  grave 
historian  Tacitus  himself  seems  to  attach  a  certain 

1  Cic.  Div.  i.  85.     Plut.  Rom.  12. 

2  Hor.  Carm.  i.  11  ;  ii.  17.     Serm.  i.  6,  114. 


x98        THE  WORSHIP   OF  THE  ROMANS 

weight  to  their  predictions,  although  he  is  not  blind 
to  the  evils  they  cause.  He  speaks  of  them  as  a 
class  of  men  who  are  faithless  to  the  powerful,  and 
deceive  those  who  trust  in  them.  Yet  he  foresees  that 
however  often  they  be  forbidden  to  practice  their  art, 
they  will  always  find  dupes.  Two  years  after  the 
death  of  Augustus,  they  were  banished  by  the  order 
of  the  Senate.  But  the  patronage  of  the  Emperors 
themselves  was  extended  to  them,  so  that  such 
regulations  remained  a  dead  letter.  Tiberius,  who 
believed  in  nothing  else  except  thunderstorms,  placed 
unbounded  faith  in  the  Chaldaeans.  He  had  studied 
the  art  under  Thrasyllus,  whom  he  put  to  a  severe 
test.1 

As  often  as  Tiberius  consulted  an  astrologer,  he 
used  to  take  him  to  a  remote  part  of  his  palace. 
One  attendant  alone  used  to  be  present,  chosen  for 
his  ignorance  and  bodily  strength.  After  the  inter- 
view the  adept  was  conducted  away  along  a 
precipitous  path.  The  palace  overhung  the  cliffs, 
and  if  the  noble  owner  entertained  a  suspicion  that 
the  man  was  an  impostor,  or  was  acting  in  bad  faith, 
he  was  thrown  over  into  the  sea.  In  this  way  the 
danger  of  disclosure  of  any  secrets  was  prevented. 
Thrasyllus  was  led  along  the  same  road,  and  was 
asked  whether  he  had  cast  his  own  horoscope.  He 
took  some  observations,  and  displayed  the  greatest 
alarm,  and  at  last  said  that  he  was  in  the  utmost 

1  Tac.  Hist.  i.  22  ;  Ann.  vi.  21. 


DIVINATION   AND   PROPHECY  199 

peril.  Tiberius  thereupon  embraced  him,  and  con- 
gratulated him  upon  his  admirable  foresight  Ever 
afterwards  he  treated  what  Thrasyllus  said  as  the 
answers  of  an  oracle.  The  knowledge  of  the  art 
passed  on  to  Thrasyllus'  son,  who  prophesied  the 
accession  of  Nero. 

Tiberius  himself  reached  a  high  pitch  of  pro- 
ficiency. He  foretold  that  Galba  would  one  day 
reign,  and  in  his  last  hours  revealed  the  career  of  his 
successor  Gaius.  Otho,  in  like  manner,  surrounded 
himself  with  seers  and  Chaldaeans.  These  promised 
to  him  that  he  should  outlive  Nero  and  rule  over  the 
Romans.  Two  generations  later  the  philosopher 
Favorinus  wrote  a  tractate  against  all  this,  in  which 
he  set  forth  the  arguments  which  were  as  sound  then 
as  now — and  as  little  regarded.  Tacitus  himself 
must  be  credited  with  very  respectable  prophetic 
powers.  Two  thousand  years  nearly  have  passed 
since  he  wrote,  and  the  Chaldaeans  are  still  with  us.1 

1  Tac.  Ann.  vi.  20.      Plut.  Galb.  23. 


THE    PRIMITIVE    IDEA    OF 
HOLINESS 

WE  have  seen  how  very  flexible  are  the  primi- 
tive ideas  of  cause  and  effect.  But  these  ideas 
are  not  applied  to  the  whole  of  Nature  with  the  dis- 
interestedness of  the  man  of  science.  The  savage  is 
as  impatient  as  Lord  Macaulay  was,  with  every  train 
of  thought  that  does  not  end  in  some  practical  utility. 
And  he  soon  singles  out  from  his  surroundings  those 
things  that  seem  to  stand  in  some  special  relation  to 
himself,  his  belongings,  and  his  interests.  For  him  all 
explanation  must  take  a  concrete  form.  "You 
cannot  explain  things  to  the  Oriental,"  says  Mr. 
Kipling,  "  you  must  show."  And  here  the  Oriental 
is  like  his  primitive  brother.  Romer  once  peeped  in 
at  an  open  door,  and  found  an  old  negro  caboceer 
sitting  amid  twenty  thousand  fetishes  in  his  private 
fetish  museum,  thus  performing  his  devotions.  The 
old  man  told  him  that  he  did  not  know  the  hundredth 
part  of  the  use  they  had  been  to  him.  His  ancestors 
and  he  had  collected  them.  Each  one  had  done  some 
service.  The  visitor  took  up  a  stone  about  as  big  as 
a  hen's  egg,  and  the  owner  told  its  history.     He  was 


THE   PRIMITIVE   IDEA   OF   HOLINESS     201 

once  going  out  on  important  business,  but  crossing 
the  threshold  he  trod  on  this  stone  and  hurt  himself. 
"  Ha  ha !"  thought  he,  "  Are  you  here  ?"  So  he  took 
up  the  stone,  and  it  helped  him  in  his  undertaking  for 
days.1 

This  kind  of  association  may  attach  itself  to  all 
manner  of  things,  to  minerals,  plants,  human  beings, 
and  places.  But  the  benefit  which  is  thus  promised 
can  also  be  ensured  by  parts  of  these  objects.  A 
lump  of  soil  from  a  lucky  spot,  a  feather  from  a  bird, 
a  few  threads  from  the  garment  of  a  luck-bringing 
individual,  are  sufficient  by  the  rules  of  savage  logic. 
The  influence  of  the  fetish  is  interpreted  as  a  kind  of 
life  of  which  the  fetish  is  the  seat.  It  is  needless  to 
go  far  afield  for  analogies.  The  belief  in  charms  is 
widely  prevalent  still,  and  is  of  the  same  kind  exactly 
as  the  belief  in  fetishes.  The  protection  employed 
against  lightning,  the  onions,  the  hair,  the  sprats' 
heads,  of  which  Roman  folklore  gives  so  amusing 
an  explanation,  is  obviously  of  the  same  kind  with 
the  fetishes  of  the  African.  Roman  medicine  fur- 
nishes us  with  many  talismans  which,  strange  ap- 
parently, would  be  proper  enough  in  the  eyes  of  a 
savage.  The  feeling  that  you,  dear  reader,  have 
some  things  that  bring  luck,  brings  even  you  in  touch 
with  the  poor  heathen  who  collects  such  things  into 
his  fetish  museum,  and  does  reverence  to  them. 

Over  against  lucky  things  stand  those  which  are 

1  Tylor,  Prim.  Cult.  ii.  158. 


202        THE   WORSHIP   OF   THE   ROMANS 

unlucky.  Just  as  the  belief  in  charms  is  echoed  very 
faintly  in  your  and  my  belief  in  lucky  things,  so  in 
the  shrinking  we  have  towards  what  seems  unlucky, 
we  catch  a  very  faint  whisper  of  the  thunderous 
threatenings  which  baneful  objects  and  actions  seem 
to  hold  out  against  the  savage.  Native  Australians 
in  sound  health  have  been  known  to  die  of  terror 
within  twenty-four  hours,  after  they  have  been  placed 
under  some  taboo.  There  is  no  reason,  therefore,  to 
doubt  the  stories  current  among  the  Romans  of  the 
death  of  persons  who  in  like  manner  have  come 
under  a  taboo.  The  man  who  named  the  secret 
name  of  the  city  may  indeed  have  died.  The 
families  of  the  Potitii  may  indeed  have  wasted 
away,  as  Livy  describes ;  if,  when  they  divulged 
their  family  worship  of  Hercules,  they  broke  any 
very  binding  taboo.  And  it  is  not  impossible  that 
the  death  of  Atticus'  grandmother  may  have  been 
accelerated  by  her  anxiety  about  the  proper  carrying 
out  of  the  Alban  festival. 

The  number  of  things  and  actions  that  were 
tabooed  at  Rome  in  historical  times,  was  always 
tending  to  grow  less.  What  once  was  a  general 
prohibition,  is  limited  to  special  occasions  in  the 
life  of  the  individual  or  to  the  priests.  The  Flamen 
of  Jupiter  was  always  on  his  guard  against  breaking 
a  very  elaborate  series  of  taboos.  There  is  reason  to 
suppose  that  in  prehistoric  times,  the  lifetime  of  the 
ordinary  citizen  was  cumbered  much  in  the  same  way. 


THE   PRIMITIVE   IDEA   OF   HOLINESS     203 

We  can  distinguish  two  applications  of  these  pro- 
hibitions. On  the  one  hand  it  was  desired  to  protect 
the  life  of  the  priest  or  citizen  against  harm,  and  he 
was  warned  off  from  given  objects  or  the  perform- 
ance of  given  actions.  On  the  other  hand,  human 
beings  might  be  regarded  as  sources  of  danger,  and 
they  became  tabooed  in  the  same  way  as  the  leaven, 
the  raw  flesh,  dogs,  and  goats  were  tabooed  to  the 
Flamen.  Such  for  example  was  the  outlaw,  the  man 
who  by  some  act  had  become  a  source  of  harm  to 
the  community.  In  order  that  he  might  not  transmit 
any  evil  to  the  sacred  elements,  fire  and  water,  he  was 
carefully  prevented  from  using  them.  Lest  the  blood 
of  the  criminal  should  be  shed  and  the  land  become 
polluted,  he  was  either  driven  into  exile  by  the 
operation  of  this  taboo,  whereby  the  necessity  of  his 
death  was  done  away;  or,  if  it  were  necessary,  he  was 
made  to  leap  from  the  Tarpeian  rock.  It  was  thence 
that  the  tribunes  cast  Manlius  down.  So,  too,  a 
tribune  to  gratify  private  spite,  seized  a  Metellus 
who  had  been  censor,  and  would  have  hurled  him 
down  the  same  precipice,  unless  another  tribune 
had  interposed  his  veto.  The  Arabs  who  killed 
Professor  Palmer,  made  him  leap  from  a  precipice, 
thus,  as  they  thought,  avoiding  bloodguiltiness.  We 
are  reminded  of  the  care  with  which  the  Romans 
avoided  a  like  stain,  when  they  buried  the  sinning 
vestal  alive  in  the  Accursed  Field.1 

1  Liv.  vi.  20.    Plin.  N.  H.  vii.  143. 


204        THE   WORSHIP   OF   THE   ROMANS 

Although  the  greatest  care  might  be  exercised, 
it  was  impossible  but  that  from  time  to  time  evil 
influences  should  be  encountered  unawares.  Death 
seems  to  have  been  viewed  as  one  of  the  most 
important  causes  of  taboo.  The  Flamen  of  Jupiter 
might  not  touch  a  corpse,  or  indeed,  step  upon  a 
grave.  The  white  garments  and  headbands  worn  by 
women  who  were  in  mourning,  were  the  outward 
marks  of  the  temporary  taboo  in  which  they  found 
themselves.  At  Argos  the  white  garments  worn  in 
mourning  were  specially  washed  in  water,  as  if  for 
purification.  At  Rome  the  cypress  which  stood  at 
the  entrance  to  the  house  of  death,  warned  those 
who  were  about  to  engage  in  religious  ceremonies 
that  they  were  not  to  enter.1 

If  we  wish  to  understand  the  primitive  view  of  im- 
purity, we  must  extend  the  notion  to  all  the  cases  in 
which  a  man  breaks  one  of  the  traditional  taboos. 

Let  us  suppose  that  such  has  been  the  case ;  that 
either  voluntarily,  as  in  the  example  of  the  mourner, 
or  involuntarily,  someone  has  broken  a  taboo.  There 
were  means  to  restore  him.  At  Rome,  both  fire 
and  water  were  believed  to  have  this  power.  The 
bystanders  at  a  funeral  removed  all  pollution  which 
they  had  incurred,  by  sprinkling  themselves  with 
water ;  sometimes  they  stepped  over  fire.  When 
Aeneas  joined  his  father  by  the  temple  of  Ceres 
in  the  fields,  he  avoided  touching  the  sacred  vessels 

1  GelL  AT.  A.  x.  15.     Plut.  J?.  Q,  26. 


THE   PRIMITIVE   IDEA   OF   HOLINESS.    205 

and  the  images  of  the  gods.  "  Take  them,  O  father," 
he  said,  "  I  may  not  handle  them  until  I  have  washed 
my  stains  away  in  living  water."  Special  virtues 
were  thus  attributed  to  running  water.  It  was  alive, 
or  else  how  should  it  move  ?  This  belief  influenced 
the  baptismal  procedure  of  the  early  Church.  Since 
the  hands  were  very  likely  to  have  become  impure, 
"  all  commencement  of  worship,"  said  a  young 
Roman,  "warns  away  those  who  have  not  pure 
hands."  "There  are  partial  washings  or  purifica- 
tions," says  Lane,  "which  all  Muslims  perform  on 
certain  occasions,  even  if  they  neglect  their  prayers, 
and  which  are  considered  as  religious  acts."  1 

Since  water  has  such  magic  powers,  a  bath  is  not 
to  be  undertaken  lightly.  A  newborn  child  among 
the  Damaras  is  washed — the  only  time  he  is  washed 
in  his  life — then  dried  and  greased,  and  the  ceremony 
is  over.  So  the  Roman  ladies  originally  washed 
their  heads  only  once  a  year.2 

At  first  the  water  is  believed  to  remove  some 
natural  state  of  the  person  using  it,  in  the  same 
way  as  it  removes  the  grime  from  his  skin.  It  has 
this  physical  office  before  it  is  brought  into  con- 
nection with  the  worship  of  any  spirit.  And  it  is 
only  as  the  belief  in  spiritual  powers  is  sublimed  and 
refined,  that  the  purification  is  regarded  as  symbolic, 

1  Festus,  s  v.  aqua.   Virg.  Aen.  ii.   717.     Didache,  7.    Liv.  xlv.  5. 
Lane,  Mod.  Egypt,     c.  iii. 
3  Galton,  Travels,  c.  6.     Plut.  K.  Q.  100. 


2o6        THE   WORSHIP   OF   THE   ROMANS 

or  rather  productive,  of  moral  purity.     Every  ortho- 
dox Hindu  is  perfectly  persuaded  that  the  dirtiest 
water,  if  taken   from  a  sacred  stream  and  applied 
to  his  body,  either  internally  or  externally,  will  purify 
his  soul.     Imperfect  as  such  a  conception  seems  to 
us,   it   represents   an   advance,  nevertheless,  on   the 
primitive  one.     There  is  no  doubt  that  the  water 
of  a  running   stream  was  believed  by  the  Roman 
to  take  away  the  awful  guilt  of  murder,  to  use  Ovid's 
striking  words.     But  these  easy  minds  passed  away, 
and  Cicero  anticipates  the  feelings  of  a  later  time 
when  he  says,  "In  truth  there  is  no  atonement  for 
crimes  against  mankind,  and  for  impiety  towards  the 
gods.     Men   pay  the  penalty  of  their  guilt,  not  so 
much  through  the  ministers  of  justice,  as  that  they 
are  hunted  and  driven  by  the  furies,  who  use  the 
anguish  of  conscience  and  the  torturing  sense  of  evil, 
instead  of  the  flaming  pinebrands  of  which  the  poets 
speak.     The  darts  of  the  gods  are  directed  against 
the  minds  of  the  wicked."     The  Roman  poets  did 
far  less  than  those  of  Greece  towards  transforming 
the  idea  of  physical  pollution  into  that  of  moral  guilt. 
This   task   was    performed    rather   by   philosophical 
writers,  such  as  Cicero.     Since,  however,  the  public 
of  such  writers  was  a  very  small  one,  we  are  driven 
to  the  conclusion  that  the  Romans  must  have  been 
more    backward   in   this    respect  than    the   Greeks, 
whose  poetry  could  speak  to  all.1 

1  M.  Williams,  Hinduism,   157.     Ovid,  Fasti,  ii.  45.     Cic.  Legg. 
i.  40.     Har.  Resp.  39.     Butcher,  Gteek  Genius,  128. 


THE   PRIMITIVE   IDEA   OF   HOLINESS     207 

Fire  was  used  in  the  same  way  as  water.  "The 
wise  priest  whirls  round  the  limbs  that  are  to  be 
purified,  a  lustral  torch,  the  flame  of  which  is  blended 
of  dark  blue  sulphur  and  black  pitch."  So  disease  is 
warded  off  by  leaping  through  the  flames  at  the 
festival  of  Pales ;  disease  being  one  of  the  most 
recognisable  states  of  taboo.  When  the  evils  for 
which  water  and  fire  are  safeguards,  are  referred  to 
evil  spirits,  the  lustral  elements  are  thought  to  drive 
away  the  spirits  of  evil,  of  disease,  rather  than  the 
disease  itself.  Hence  fire  gains  the  repute  of  being 
a  charm  against  evil  spirits,  apart  from  their 
particular  malign  influences.  "Fire,"  says  Giraldus 
Cambrensis,  "is  the  greatest  of  enemies  to  every 
kind  of  phantom,  insomuch  that  those  who  have 
seen  apparitions,  fall  into  a  swoon  as  soon  as  they 
are  sensible  of  the  brightness  of  fire."  But  this  is 
contradicted  by  experience.  I  have  been  at 
spiritualist  meetings,  when  the  clairvoyant  has  seen 
many  spirits,  although  the  gas  was  turned  up.  Fire 
was  also  a  charm  against  strangers,  who  on  the 
primitive  view,  if  not  evil  spirits,  were  at  any  rate 
in  league  with  them.  The  Chinese  phrase,  foreign 
devils,  defines  itself.  When  the  Damaras,  the  bush- 
men,  the  oxen,  and  the  zebras,  came  out  of  the  tree 
of  life,  the  Damaras  lit  a  fire  which  scared  away  the 
bushmen  and  the  zebras,  so  that  they  themselves  and 
the  oxen  were  left  The  taper  that  was  kept  burn- 
ing in  the  chamber  of  the  new-born  babe  at  Rome, 


208        THE   WORSHIP   OF   THE   ROMANS 

was    a    precaution   against   malign   influence   of  all 
kinds.1 

Fire  and  water,  then,  are  two  of  the  chief  means 
by  which  taboo  is  removed.  Their  influence,  how- 
ever, on  the  whole  seems  to  have  been  thought  of  as 
negative  in  character.  They  did  not  communicate 
strength  to  those  who  employed  them.  They  simply 
removed  an  evil  state.  Other  agents  were  needed, 
which  should  do  more  than  this. 

The  desired  end  was  the  obtaining  of  fuller  and 
richer  life.  This  was  needed  not  only  for  the 
individual,  but  also  for  his  surroundings.  The  notion 
that  the  earth  is  wearing  out  and  needs  constant 
renewal,  was  forced  upon  the  Romans  by  his  system 
of  farming.  The  rotation  of  crops  and  the  use  of 
manures  was  understood  by  him  only  to  a  small 
extent,  and  from  year  to  year  he  was  compelled  to 
let  his  land  rest.  As  Time  passed  by,  he  took  away 
each  hour  somewhat  of  the  strength  of  the  land,  the 
people,  their  herds,  and  their  crops. 

"The  age  is  enfeebled,"  laments  Lucretius,  "and 
the  earth,  exhausted  by  bearing,  scarce  produces 
little  living  creatures,  she  who  produced  all  races, 
and  gave  birth  to  the  huge  bodies  of  wild  beasts. 
Aforetime,  too,  she  of  herself  made  fair  harvests 
and  lush  vineyards  to  grow  for  the  use  of  man. 
Sweet  fruit  and  lush  meadows  gave  she,  which  now 
scarce  come  to  the  full,  with  our  toil  to  boot     We 

1  Claudian,  VL  Cons.  Hon.  324.     Galton,  op.  cit.  c.  6.     Lucr.  ii.  fin. 


THE    PRIMITIVE    IDEA   OF    HOLINESS     209 

wear  away  our  oxen  and  the  strength  of  the  yeomen, 
and  though  our  iron  wastes  away,  the  corn  fields 
yield  but  a  scanty  harvest.  So  niggardly  are  they  of 
their  fruit,  and  after  so  much  toil  do  they  let  it  grow. 
The  sorrowful  planter,  too,  of  the  worn  -  out  and 
withered  vine,  upbraids  the  march  of  time  and 
wearies  heaven,  and  comprehends  not  that  all  things 
are  wasting  away  piecemeal,  and  going  to  the  grave 
forespent  in  the  long  tale  of  years."  Antique  rites 
promised  to  the  worshipper  renewed  life  for  him- 
self, his  crops,  and  his  cattle,  and  so  to  stay  the 
continual  waning  of  his,  and  their,  life.  The  chief 
means  by  which  this  was  attained  lay  in  the  flesh 
and  blood  of  certain  animals  and  certain  men,  or  in 
the  life  of  certain  trees  and  herbs.  Contact  with  the 
skin  of  the  goat  which  the  Luperci  sacrificed,  made 
the  Roman  women  fruitful.  So  the  blood  of  the 
October  horse  communicated  its  virtues  to  the 
flocks  and  the  people  at  the  Parilia.  It  renewed 
their  life. 

Let  us  now  ask  ourselves,  on  the  principles  of 
primitive  thought,  what  consequences  follow  from  the 
use  of  blood  in  worship.  We  might  be  tempted  to 
reply  at  once  that  it  will  be  identified  with  the  life  of 
the  community,  and  point  to  the  belief  of  the  early 
Jews.  It  cannot  be  maintained,  however,  that  there 
are  adequate  evidences  of  such  a  belief  at  Rome. 
Perhaps  it  is  going  too  far  to  speak  of  it  even  as  the 
vehicle   of  the  communal   life,  at   any  rate    in    any 

O 


210        THE   WORSHIP   OF  THE   ROMANS 

unique  sense.1  There  is  no  obvious  reason  why  we 
should  attribute  to  the  use  of  blood  in  ritual  a  mean- 
ing different  in  kind  from  that  of  the  use  of  fat. 
Bearing  this  in  mind,  we  may  take  it  that  the 
application  of  the  blood  and  flesh  of  the  slaughtered 
animal  in  lustration,  bound  together  in  some  way 
those  who  were  present  at  the  rite.  The  communal 
feeling,  if  it  was  not  created,  was  at  any  rate 
nourished,  by  such  acts. 

It  is  a  commonplace  that  the  notion  of  individual 
existence  is  of  comparatively  recent  growth,  and  that 
in  nearly  all  ancient  peoples,  the  life  of  the  citizen 
was  not  conceived  in  separation  from  that  of  the 
community.  This  merely  states  in  clear  terms  a 
sentiment  felt  deeply  always,  even  when  most 
obscurely  expressed,  namely,  that  each  man  is 
dependent  upon  his  fellows  ;  a  dependence  far  more 
strongly  marked  when  law  gave  but  an  intermittent 
sanction  to  individual  rights,  than  at  present,  when 
the  very  strength  of  the  social  sanctions  causes  them 
to  be  overlooked.  Instead,  therefore,  of  treating  the 
ancient  community  as  made  up  of  individuals,  we 
ought  to  proceed  as  if  the  community  came  first,  and 
then  sundered  itself  into  the  life  of  the  separate 
citizens.  We  might,  without  excessive  paradox, 
affirm  that  the  individual  only  begins  to  exist  in  any 
speculative  sense,  at  a  comparatively  recent  date. 
When  we  bear  in  mind,  on  the  one  hand,  that  savage 
1  Dent.  xii.  23. 


THE   PRIMITIVE   IDEA   OF   HOLINESS     211 

life  is  hedged  in  with  many  more  conventions  than 
civilised ;  and,  on  the  other,  that  savage  thought 
moves  along  fewer  and  narrower  channels,  it  becomes 
conceivable  that  primitive  existence  is  in  the  main  a 
social  affair.  There  is  no  loophole  for  private 
initiative,  and  what  is  more,  there  is  comparatively 
little  impulse  towards  it. 

In  the  light  of  these  considerations,  we  may  go  on 
to  affirm  that  the  communal  life  was  that  to  which 
all  considerations  of  utility  or  harm  were  referred, 
and  also  that  all  acts  from  which  benefit  was 
expected  were  of  necessity  communal  acts. 

In  the  first  place,  then,  the  distinctions  of  lucky 
and  unlucky  are  drawn  by  preference  with  a  view  to 
the  communal  life.  That  which  is  good  is  good  for 
the  communal  life,  that  which  is  bad  at  all  is  bad  for 
it.  Our  Anglo-Saxon  forefathers  have  left  a  curious 
testimony  to  this  in  their  word  "  holy,"  or  wholesome. 
What  is  wholesome  is  so  for  the  whole  people.  And 
what  is  wholesome  for  the  whole  people  gathers 
round  it  that  awe  which  the  term  holy  arouses  in 
our  minds.  Thus  what  is  trifling  in  its  result  for 
good  or  for  ill,  gains  importance  on  this  ancient  view. 
The  primitive  idea  of  holiness  then  implies,  as  its 
chief  element,  relation  to  the  communal  life. 

We  have  found  reason  from  time  to  time  to  hold 
that  in  the  main  the  religion  of  Rome  was  very 
primitive  in  form.  Its  acts  of  worship  have  rarely 
lost  the  appearance  of  magic ;  its  objects  of  reverence 


212        THE  WORSHIP   OF  THE   ROMANS 

are,  in  the  main,  fetishes.  The  abstractions  with 
which  the  Roman  has  been  credited,  the  spirits  whose 
names  appear  in  the  indigitamenta,  are  really  little 
more  than  the  magical  names  by  which  certain 
actions  are  forwarded.  This  is  shown  by  the  inability 
of  the  Romans  to  give  any  further  account  of  these 
spirits.  It  is  probable  that  they  had  no  existence 
in  the  Roman  fancy  beyond  the  magic  of  their 
names.  Where  the  Roman  religion  rises  above 
fetishism,  it  does  not  go  beyond  the  lower  stages 
of  animism.1 

Hence  those  who  connect  the  notion  of  holiness 
with  belief  in  spirits,  bring  the  origin  of  this  idea  too 
far  forward.  At  any  rate  the  Roman  idea  of  holi- 
ness seems  to  have  been  far  more  vivid  than  can  be 
accounted  for  by  their  undeveloped  animism.  On 
the  other  hand,  it  is  quite  reasonable  to  suppose 
that  the  idea  of  holiness,  which  was  based  on  the 
communal  life,  changed  in  content  when  the  religious 
imagination  rose  to  a  genuine  belief  in  spirits.  We 
must  consider,  therefore,  that  Robertson  Smith  was 
dealing  with  a  later  stage  of  the  development  of 
the  idea  when  he  said  that  the  term  "  Holy  expresses 
the  relation  of  natural  things  to  the  gods."2  In 
other  words,  the  more  complex  idea  rises  out  of 
the  simpler  ones  of  fetishism  and  taboo,  when  they 
are  brought  into  relation  with  belief  in  divine  beings 
whose  existence  is  manifested   in  the  holy  objects. 

1  p.  105.  s  Rel.  Sent.  90. 


THE   PRIMITIVE   IDEA   OF   HOLINESS     213 

The  spear  and  the  flint,  which  once  were  fetishes 
perhaps  like  the  stone  of  the  caboceer,  are  said 
afterwards  to  be  sacred  to  the  spear  god  and  the 
sky  spirit,  and  their  efficacy  is  referred  not  to  any 
intrinsic  properties,  but  to  the  influence  of  the  deity 
to  whom  they  are  sacred. 

It  is  worth  notice  that  the  strength  of  the  com- 
munal feeling  is  quite  adequate  to  account  for  an 
idea  of  holiness  of  considerable  impressiveness.  The 
religio,  or  sense  of  scruple,  of  which  Roman  writers 
speak,  has  not  that  immediate  connection  with  the 
belief  in  spirits  which  the  term  religion  suggests  to 
us ;  and  yet  we  know  that  it  was  a  very  powerful 
motive  in  the  Roman  mind.  Instead  of  treating  the 
reference  to  spirits  as  its  primary  meaning,  it  would 
seem  more  appropriate  to  treat  this  reference  as  a 
later  development,  growing  out  of  the  simpler 
meaning  of  communal  duty. 

There  are  some  important  indications  that  the 
social  origin  of  the  idea  of  holiness  was  always,  more 
or  less,  present  to  the  Romans.  The  pontiffs  held 
that  no  temple  or  statue  could  be  duly  consecrated 
without  the  express  appointment  of  the  Roman 
people.  This  held  at  least  of  all  consecrations  which 
took  place  on  lands  belonging  to  the  state.  On  the 
other  hand,  all  objects  that  were  sacred  in  degree 
lost  that  character  when  they  fell  into  the  hands  of 
the  enemy,  and  resumed  it  by  a  kind  of  postliminium, 
when   they   were   recovered.      (A    Roman  who  was 


2i4        THE   WORSHIP   OF  THE   ROMANS 

captured  in  war  thereby  lost  his  civil  rights ;  he 
recovered  them  under  ordinary  circumstances  on  his 
return  to  captivity.  The  name  postliminium  was 
given  to  this  restoration.1) 

It  would  appear,  then,  that  the  main  element  in 
early  religious  belief  is  the  same  with  what  is  not 
the  least  important  element  in  later  forms.  Relation 
to  the  Church  answers  very  closely  to  the  antique 
idea  of  relation  to  the  community.  The  persistence 
with  which  mediaeval  ecclesiastics  treated  all  objects 
as  sacred  which  belonged  to  the  Church,  helps  us 
to  understand  how  all  objects  and  actions  which 
were  connected  with  the  communal  interest,  gained 
a  similar  character  when  the  State  was  practically 
identical  with  the  religious  community.  If  we  pass 
to  a  higher  level,  the  correspondence  is  still  the 
same.  "  Only  through  society  is  anyone  enabled 
to  give  that  effect  to  the  idea  of  himself  as  the  object 
of  his  actions,  to  the  idea  of  a  possible  better  state 
of  himself,  without  which  the  idea  would  remain 
like  that  of  space  to  a  man  who  had  not  the  senses 
either  of  sight  or  of  touch."  And  what  is  said  here 
of  the  personality  as  a  whole,  applies  especially  to 
its  religious  development.2 

Further,  it  is  this  fundamental  element  in  the  idea 
of  holiness  which  enables  us  to  understand  the  great 

1  Liv.  ix.  46.     Cic.  de  Do/no.  136.     Dig.  xi.  7,  36.     Ortolan,  Leg. 
Rom.  ii.  254. 

2  Green,  ProL  Eth.  p.  190. 


THE   PRIMITIVE   IDEA   OF   HOLINESS     215 

paradox  of  the  Greek  and  Roman  religions.  The 
immorality  attributed  to  the  Greek  deities,  and  the 
unsympathetic  —  nay,  lifeless  —  character  of  the 
Roman  ones,  did  not  touch  the  feeling  of  social 
duty.  Here  was  the  spring,  of  which  the  abundant 
waters  almost  swept  away  the  mire  which  later  tribu- 
taries poured  into  its  stream.  And  so,  right  through 
the  long  history  of  both  Greece  and  Rome,  it  is 
conceivable  that  the  more  religious  natures  found  an 
outlet,  imperfect  indeed,  for  their  higher  feelings 
in  the  rites  of  what  seem  to  us  primitive  or  even 
degraded  worships. 

Up  to  this  point  the  exact  meaning  that  is  to 
be  attached  to  "  holiness "  in  the  Roman  view  has 
been  indicated  very  vaguely.  All  that  we  have 
determined  is  that  it  denotes  some  relation  to  the 
welfare  of  the  community,  and  then,  by  a  later 
development,  to  the  life  of  some  divinity.  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  the  notion  of  holiness  takes  at  least 
three  quite  distinct  forms  in  its  application  to  things. 
(We  shall  consider  the  case  of  persons  in  a  future 
chapter.)  In  the  first  place,  to  follow  the  classification 
of  the  Roman  lawyers,  sacred  things  are  those  which 
are  consecrated  to  the  gods  above,  res  sacrae.  "  But 
that  land  only  is  considered  sacred  which  has  been 
consecrated  by  the  authority  of  the  Roman  people, 
by  the  passing  of  a  law,  or  of  a  decree  of  the  Senate. 
On  the  other  hand,"  says  Gaius,  "  we  can,  of  our 
own  free  will,  make  land  religious  by  conveying  a 


216        THE   WORSHIP   OF   THE   ROMANS 

corpse  into  a  place  which  is  our  own  property,  pro- 
viding only  that  the  burial  of  the  corpse  devolves 
on  us."  The  term  "religious"  seems  to  answer  to 
a  more  primitive  mode  of  thought ;  the  presence 
of  the  dead  gives  rise  to  a  species  of  taboo.  In 
Cleveland,  Durham,  it  is  still  believed  that  if  a  corpse 
is  carried  across  a  field,  a  public  right,  of  way  is 
created.  The  notion  of  sanctity  is  attached  to  the 
chief  possessions  of  the  city,  its  walls,  gates,  ramparts, 
and  senate-house.  The  taboo  which  attached  to  the 
walls  of  Rome  is  explained  in  the  story  of  the  death 
of  Remus.  He  was  said  to  have  leapt  over  the  line 
by  which  the  walls  of  the  city  were  marked  out  at 
its  foundation,  and  to  have  been  killed  for  the 
sacrilege  which  this  act  involved.1 

It  is  striking  to  find  that  the  word  "pure"  is 
employed  to  mark  off  those  objects  which  do  not 
come  under  any  of  these  three  descriptions.  "  That 
place  is  called  pure,"  says  Ulpian,  "  which  is  neither 
sacred,  nor  religious,  nor  hallowed."  Hence  holy 
things  in  their  several  kinds  are  marked  off  from 
amid  a  general  assemblage  of  what  is  pure.  It  is 
not  difficult  to  enter  into  the  state  of  mind  which 
views  its  surroundings  in  this  light.  According  to 
the  ancient  conception,  the  normal  state  of  the  whole 
community  and  of  its  possessions  was  one  of  purity. 
By  the  careful  performance  of  the  ceremonies  of  its 
religion,  two  practical  ends  were  attained.     On  the 

1  Gaius,  ii.  2  AT. 


THE   PRIMITIVE    IDEA   OF   HOLINESS     217 

one  hand,  water  and  fire  put  away  all  that  was 
hostile  to  the  communal  life.  On  the  other  hand, 
the  communal  life  was  furthered  and  enriched  by 
certain  acts,  in  which  the  use  of  blood  plays  an 
important  part.1 

The  fears  of  the  State  were  directed  to  the  possible 
interruptions  of  this  normal  condition.  It  will  appear 
that  those  things  which  have  been  enumerated  as 
holy  in  their  several  orders,  are  precisely  the  sources 
from  which  such  dangers  might  be  expected  to  come. 
To  touch  the  walls  by  which  the  citizens  were 
guarded,  to  disturb  the  spirits  of  the  dead,  to  draw 
down  the  anger  of  the  gods  by  trespassing  on  their 
property ;  such  acts  as  these  were  prohibited  by  just 
that  feeling  of  scruple  which  the  Romans  called 
religio.  The  aim  of  the  Roman  was  not  so  much 
to  ensure  the  activity  of  his  gods,  as  to  leave  their 
peace,  "  the  peace  of  the  gods,"  unbroken  ;  or  when 
it  was  broken,  to  restore  it.  When  the  reference  of 
the  changing  fortunes  of  the  State  to  the  divine 
activity  became  more  clear,  both  good  and  ill  seemed 
to  be  due  to  the  gods.  The  Romans  at  first  venerated 
the  spirits  rather  for  their  power  than  their  goodness. 
They  did  not  refuse  adoration  to  an  influential  deity, 
although  his  or  her  moral  character  was  unattractive. 
They  had  not  reached  the  stage  at  which  spirits 
are  venerated  as  being  higher  and  nobler  than  their 
worshippers.  As  we  have  seen,  the  ancient  altar 
1  Dig.  xi.  7,  2. 


218        THE   WORSHIP   OF   THE   ROMANS 

of  Fever  on  the  Palatine  Hill,  and  the  altar  of  Bad 
Luck  on  the  Esquiline  Hill  are  instances  of  reverence 
paid  to  evil  spirits.  To  these  may  be  added  the 
mildew  spirit,  Robigo,  whose  worship  was  celebrated 
by  the  priest  of  Quirinus.  Obviously,  then,  since 
the  notion  of  deity  carried  with  it  first  and  chiefly 
the  idea  of  power,  the  feeling  towards  the  possessions 
and  acts  of  the  gods  was  one  of  dread.  When  the 
sacred  gold  was  recovered  from  the  Gauls,  it  was 
buried  under  the  seat  of  Jove,  in  order  that  evil 
might  not  come  through  it.1  In  this  way  even 
beneficent  talismans,  which  have  been  taken  under 
the  protection  of  a  god,  are  avoided  in  the  same  way 
as  other  things  which  bring  misfortune  and  death. 
Things  that  are  holy  are  shunned  in  the  same  way 
as  things  that  are  impure.  "  Leaves,  flowers,  fruit, 
and  water  become  unfit  to  be  consumed  after  being 
consecrated  to  Siva."2  Hence  the  term  sacred  meant 
both  holy  and  accursed.  So  the  same  Hebrew  word 
meant  both  to  curse  and  to  bless. 

Nevertheless  the  Roman  idea  of  holiness  seems 
scarcely  to  have  risen  to  the  height  which  corre- 
sponding ideas  attained  elsewhere.  The  national 
deities  were  so  obscurely  figured,  that  they  never 
entered  into  so  living  a  union  with  their  peoples  as 
the  more  clearly  limned  gods  of  Greece,  or  the 
Baalim  of  the  Semites.  All  the  feeling  of  the  Roman 
spent  itself  upon  the  worship  of  his  ancestors,  the 

1  Cic.  Legg.  ii.  28.  2  M.  Williams,  Hinduism,  100. 


THE   PRIMITIVE   IDEA   OF   HOLINESS     219 

elders,  "the  good  people"  among  whom  he  lived. 
Hence  when  we  pass  from  the  notions  of  fetish 
and  taboo  to  the  same  notions  as  transformed  by- 
contact  with  more  developed  worship,  the  change  is 
less  than  the  answering  transition  among  the  Greeks 
and  the  Hebrews.  Where  another  would  justify  an 
act  by  its  relation  to  a  god,  the  Roman  was  still 
satisfied  if  he  could  point  to  the  custom  of  the 
elders. 


HOLY    PLACES   AND    IDOLATRY 


WHEN  the  primitive  man  begins  to  attribute 
the  magical  properties  of  objects  to  indwell- 
ing spirits,  he  finds  scope  for  this  tendency  in  the  fire 
on  his  hearth,  in  the  spring,  the  living  stream,  the 
woodland,  and  the  mountain.  The  good  which 
seems  to  come  from  water,  fire,  trees,  and  herbs,  is 
now  referred  to  fountain  and  river  spirits,  fire  spirits, 
and  tree  spirits.  If  he  is  imaginative  these  creations 
of  his  fancy  become  free  of  their  material  embodi- 
ment, and  lead  lives  of  more  or  less  varied  character. 
The  Roman  seems  to  have  been  able  just  to  give 
these  ideal  beings  life ;  and  there  he  rested.  His 
spirits  do  little  else  than  attend  to  the  function  for 
which,  according  to  the  pontiffs,  they  are  told  off. 
When,  however,  a  spirit  is  attached  to  some  fixed 
and  familiar  spot,  the  tangible  character  of  his  abode 
supplies  the  least  imaginative  worshipper  with  the 
needed  suggestion.  Here  there  is  just  that  concrete 
element  from  which,  by  the  usual  association,  the 
whole  notion  of  the  spirit  gains  life  and  intensity. 
Hence   the   sanctity  of    particular   places  plays   an 


HOLY   PLACES   AND   IDOLATRY  221 

important    part    in    the    development    of    Roman 
mythology. 

"  The  nature  of  the  god,"  says  Robertson  Smith, 
"  did  not  determine  the  place  of  his  sanctuary,  but 
the  features  of  his  sanctuary  had  an  important  share 
in  determining  the  development  of  ideas  as  to  the 
functions  of  the  god."1  And  among  the  features  of 
the  sanctuary  we  must  include  the  customs  already 
bound  up  with  it.  The  worship  of  Fortune  at 
Praeneste  was  built  up  of  many  diverse  elements, 
in  which  Jupiter,  Juno,  and  divination  by  lots,  are 
found.  At  Rome,  also,  the  many  places  on  the 
Capitoline  Hill,  to  which  sanctity  was  attached, 
determined  the  worship  of  the  deities  upon  it.  The 
temple  of  Jove  was  also  that  of  Juno,  Minerva,  and 
Terminus.  The  peculiar  form  which  the  religious 
imagination  took  in  the  mind  of  the  Romans,  their 
scrupulous  adherence  to  ancient  names,  and  the 
faintness  with  which  they  pictured  their  deities, 
reconciled  them  to  shrines  in  which  many  worships 
were  carried  on  side  by  side.  Among  peoples  of  a 
warmer  fancy  they  would  all  have  been  fused  into  the 
leading  worship,  the  minor  ones  losing  separate 
existence.  Where,  however,  religious  rites  were 
practised  for  their  magical  efficacy,  and  were  not 
explicitly  attached  to  any  given  deity,  there  was 
less  difficulty  in  blending  them  into  the  ritual  of 
the  adjoining  temple. 

1  Rel.  Sem,  129. 


222        THE  WORSHIP  OF  THE   ROMANS 

At  first  the  sacred  spot  was  not  marked  by  any 
building.  Many  facts  lead  to  the  conclusion  that  the 
Romans  celebrated  public  worship  in  the  open  air, 
and  were  without  covered  temples,  until  a  very  late 
date.  That  part  of  the  great  Capitoline  temple 
which  was  sacred  to  Terminus  was  open  to  the 
sky,  and  the  reason  given  by  Servius  is  that  sacrifice 
was  made  to  him  in  the  open  air.  This  usage  is 
explained  in  turn  when  we  bear  in  mind  the  great 
antiquity  of  the  worship  of  Terminus.  There  were 
other  traces  of  this  early  open-air  worship.  It  was 
customary  for  the  Roman  boys  to  go  out  of  doors 
when  they  were  about  to  swear  by  Hercules.  "  The 
temples  of  Dius  Fidius  had  a  hole  made  specially  in 
the  roof  under  which  one  might  swear."  In  this  way, 
too,  we  can  understand  the  glorious  opening  by 
which  the  Pantheon  is  lit.  Standing  in  the  middle 
of  the  great  domed  chamber,  one  is  also  immediately 
under  the  dome  of  the  sky.1 

When  any  place  had  been  marked  out  by  a  strik- 
ing occurrence  as  holy,  that  is,  as  the  seat  of  magical 
influences,  or  at  a  later  time  as  favoured  by  some 
spirit,  it  was  enclosed.  Hence  the  enclosure  which 
marked  the  resting  place  of  the  razor  and  whetstone 
of  Attus  Navius.  So  at  Praeneste,  the  place  to 
which  Numerius  Suffustius  was  directed  in  a  dream, 
and  where  the  lots  were  found,  was  guarded  in  like 
manner.  The  end  gained  by  such  enclosure  was 
1  Plut.  E.  Q.  28.    Jevons,  pref.  R.  Q.  52. 


HOLY  PLACES  AND   IDOLATRY  223 

twofold.  On  the  one  hand  the  citizen  was  protected 
from  treading  unwittingly  upon  enchanted  ground, 
thereby  exposing  himself  to  unknown  dangers.  On 
the  other  hand  the  community  was  saved  from  the 
anger  which  such  profanation  might  inspire  in  the 
national  deities.  This  latter  notion  swallowed  up 
the  older  one,  and  the  belief  that  the  god  owned 
sacred  places,  seemed  to  explain  the  other  form  of 
scruple  as  well.  There  was  less  need  to  enclose  the 
sacred  spring  or  wood  or  stream,  because  their  sacred 
character  was  manifest  to  all.  The  shepherd  who 
sat  under  a  holy  tree  or  traversed  a  sacred  wood,  or 
plucked  its  leaves  for  his  sheep,  was  recognised  to 
have  trespassed  on  the  guardian  spirit.  The  Field 
Brethren  had  a  special  ceremony  by  which  they 
atoned  for  cutting  down  the  laurels  in  their  wood  by 
the  Tiber.  In  Sweden  certain  trees  that  stand  free, 
like  that  single  elm  tree  bright  against  the  west,  are 
not  allowed  to  be  hewn  down,  since  the  spirit  that 
dwells  in  the  tree  is  unwilling.  But  this  reference  to 
the  displeasure  of  a  spirit  is  obviously  of  later 
growth  than  the  belief  that  the  tree  was  the  seat  of 
direct  influence  upon  the  lives  of  the  people  who 
lived  in  its  neighbourhood.  The  idolatrous  Israelites 
sacrificed  "  under  oaks  and  poplars  and  terebinths, 
because  the  shadow  thereof  was  good."1 

In  the  notion  of  asylum  we  have  an  interesting 

1  Cic.  Div.  ii.  85.    Ovid,  Fasti,  iv.  749.    Wilm.  Inss.  2883.     Mann- 
hardt,  A.F.W.  i.  39.     Hosea,  iv.  13 


224        THE   WORSHIP   OF   THE   ROMANS 

testimony  to  the  power  of  certain  places  to  transmit 
their  virtues  to  him  who  enters  upon  them.  There 
was  such  a  spot  in  the  hollow  between  the  two 
summits  of  the  Capitoline  Hill.  But  the  wall  by 
which  it  was  marked  out,  was  raised  to  such  a  height 
by  the  cautious  Romans,  that  the  refugee  found  it 
impossible  to  enter  and  so  gain  its  protection.  A 
legend  was  current  which  explained  the  sanctity  of 
the  place.  When  the  city  was  being  founded, 
Romulus  desired  to  increase  the  number  of  the 
inhabitants  at  any  cost.  Hence  he  enticed  to  Rome 
all  those  who  had  been  guilty  of  any  offence,  by 
offering  them  this  place  as  an  asylum.  The  most 
ancient  temples  were  also  thought  to  give  a  sacro- 
sanct character  to  those  who  took  refuge  in  them. 
But  this  privilege  was  not  extended  to  the  temples 
of  divinities  introduced  at  a  later  time ;  as  though 
the  right  of  asylum  attached  to  the  oldest  sacred 
places  in  Rome,  and  not  to  others.  This  dignity 
was  conferred  upon  the  temple  which  the  young 
Octavian  built  in  honour  of  Caesar,  alone  among 
later  foundations.  Sometimes  the  sacred  spot  was 
to  be  avoided.  It  could  do  harm  to  those  who  came 
upon  it  unlicensed.  The  shepherd  felt  compunction 
if  he  took  his  flock  to  shelter  from  the  hailstorm  in 
one  of  those  temples  which  were  scattered  over  the 
country  side.1 

We  have   seen   that  a  distinction   may  be  drawn 

1  Dio  C.  xlvii.  19.     Ovid,  Fasti,  iv.  756. 


HOLY   PLACES   AND   IDOLATRY  225 

between  the  wood  spirits,  the  fauns,  and  the  like  on 
the  one  hand  ;  and  the  gods  on  the  other.  The  gods 
have  individuality,  the  other  spirits  have  not.  It 
seems  more  than  likely  that  this  individualising  of 
the  god  is  largely  due  to  the  association  of  his 
worship  with  a  single  place.  We  can  trace  this 
process  even  in  the  case  of  Silvanus.  It  is  very 
probable  that,  in  like  manner,  the  worship  of  Juno,  as 
a  single  deity,  arose  from  a  belief  in  a  class  of  spirits. 
So  long  as  sacred  rites  are  celebrated  chiefly  by 
detached  families  or  groups  of  families,  the  objects 
of  their  worship  are  regarded  as  separate.  When, 
however,  they  unite  to  resort  to  some  single  holy 
place  or  temple,  the  idea  that  the  object  of  their 
worship  is  also  one,  begins  to  press  in  upon  them. 
"  The  founding  of  the  Capitoline  temple,"  says  the 
author  of  Ecce  Homo,  "  may  have  modified  Roman 
religion  considerably.  It  probably  answers  in  Roman 
history  to  the  foundation  of  Solomon's  temple  in 
Jewish."  Yet  even  before  the  great  temple  was  built, 
the  god  was  believed  to  reveal  himself  in  the  crashes 
of  thunder  that  were  heard  from  the  sacred  hill. 
The  untutored  Roman  could  see  him  passing  to 
and  fro  with  his  dark  shield,  and  gathering  the  clouds. 
For  it  was  believed  that  the  deity  was  again  to  be 
found  in  those  places  where  he  had  once  appeared  to 
his  worshippers.  This  held  good  of  others  as  well  as 
Jupiter.  After  an  earthquake,  Juno  spoke  from  her 
temple  and  informed  her  worshippers  what  sacrifices 

P 


226        THE   WORSHIP   OF  THE   ROMANS 

were  necessary.  Thus  the  place  where  a  god  has 
once  manifested  himself,  becomes  holy.  As  a  matter 
of  fact  such  appearances  are  generally  recorded  of 
places  previously  marked  out  as  of  magical  influence. 
The  worship  of  Jupiter  and  Juno  was  carried  on 
where  there  were  already  sacred  stones  or  sacred 
lots.  "  The  physical  characters  that  mark  out  a  holy 
place,"  says  Robertson  Smith,  "are  not  to  be  ex- 
plained by  conjectures  based  on  the  more  developed 
types  of  heathenism,  but  must  be  regarded  as  taken 
over  from  the  primitive  beliefs  of  savage  man."1 

What  is  the  cause,  then,  that  gives  rise  to  the 
higher  conception  of  deity,  as  opposed  to  that  of 
"spirit"  worship?  The  answer  is  already  implied. 
When  the  community  gathers  together  for  a  common 
worship,  the  object  of  that  worship  transfers  to  itself, 
to  a  greater  or  less  extent,  the  characters  of  the 
surrounding  social  life.  "  The  Roman  world  of  gods 
was  a  higher  counterpart,  an  ideal  reflection  of  the 
earthly  Rome."  Conversely  the  nobility  of  the 
national  gods  is  a  measure  of  the  nobility  of  the 
national  life.  Where  religion  is  stereotyped  into  a 
mere  tradition,  it  acts  as  a  check  upon  spiritual 
advance,  so  far  as  it  acts  at  all.  It  is  fortunate,  too, 
that  when  religion  does  become  stereotyped,  its 
influence  ceases.  Nowhere  is  this  more  true  than  in 
ancient  Rome.2 

1  Seeley,  pref.  Liv.  i.  p.  95.    R.  Smith,  Re  I.  Sem.  130. 

2  Mommsen,  R.H.I.  171  (Trans.) 


HOLY   PLACES  AND   IDOLATRY  227 

From  the  notion  of  a  holy  place,  and  perhaps  we 
may  add,  from  the  respect  paid  to  the  stones  which 
so  often  marked  such  places,  there  sprang  certain 
ideas  about  altars  and  images  which  we  will  now 
consider.  There  survived  to  quite  a  late  date,  in 
the  worship  of  Terminus,  what  appears  to  be  a  kind 
of  fetichism.  Round  each  farm,  as  round  each  house, 
there  was  a  strip  of  land,  several  feet  wide,  which 
divided  it  from  the  adjoining  domains.  This  was 
regarded  as  sacred  and  left  untilled.  Stones  and 
trunks  of  trees  were  set  up  at  intervals  along  this 
space,  which,  says  Dionysius,  the  Romans  treated  as 
gods.  At  them  they  offered  cakes  and  other  first- 
fruits.  If  a  man  moved  one  of  these  termini  he 
might  be  killed  as  an  outlaw.  Among  the  Israelites, 
also,  outlawry  was  the  penalty  for  the  man  that 
removed  his  neighbour's  landmark.  From  time  to 
time  during  the  year  the  master  of  the  Roman  farm 
went  round  his  land  singing  ancient  hymns,  and 
offering  sacrifice  at  the  termini,  which  were  wreathed 
with  flowers  for  the  occasion.1 

In  the  stones  reverenced  by  primitive  peoples  it 
is  probable  that  we  find  the  origin  of  the  altar  and 
the  image.  When  sacrifice  was  made,  the  blood  of 
the  victim  of  which  the  community  partook  was 
smeared  upon  the  sacred  stone.  "  Whatever  else  was 
done  in  connection  with  a  sacrifice,"  says  Robertson 
Smith,  "  sprinkling  or  dashing  the  blood  against  the 
1  Lact.  i.  20.     D.  H.  ii.  74. 


228        THE  WORSHIP   OF  THE   ROMANS 

altar,  or  allowing  it  to  flow  on  the  ground  at  its  base, 
was  hardly  ever  omitted."  The  smearing  of  the 
image  with  blood  or  fat  seems  then  to  date  from 
the  time  when  it  was  not  yet  distinguished  from 
the  altar.  We  may  suppose  that  the  altar  was 
first  simply  a  spot  at  which  some  magical  influence 
seemed  to  show  itself.  Sir  Alfred  Lyall  refers,  with 
great  probability,  the  reverence  for  stocks  and  stones 
to  "that  simple  awe  of  the  unusual  which  belongs 
to  no  particular  religion."  If  we  may  draw  an 
inference  from  the  actual  course  of  religious  develop- 
ment in  India  to-day,  the  more  imaginative  devotee 
justifies  the  adoration  paid  to  the  magical  object  by 
attributing  it  to  some  spirit  or  deity.  "  Yet  it  seems 
certain  that  among  the  vulgar  there  is  no  second 
meaning  in  their  adoration."1 

Another  kind  of  altar  was  made  of  fresh-cut 
turf.  This  was  used  as  a  hearth.  The  kindling  of 
fire  was  once  accomplished  with  a  difficulty  which 
we  can  scarcely  realise  in  these  days,  except,  perhaps, 
in  France,  where  the  matches,  being  a  government 
monopoly,  are  rather  worse  than  the  old  tinder-box. 
Hence  the  places  where  fire  was  lit  were  regarded 
as  more  or  less  sacred.  The  feeling,  too,  was  long 
retained  that  all  flame  which  was  not  kindled 
according  to  the  ancient  prescription  was  uncanny. 
The  altar  of  fresh -cut  turf  seems  then  to  be  the 
descendant  of  the  space  in  the  open  fields  at  which 

1  Lyall,  Asiatic  Studies,  9  ff. 


HOLY   PLACES   AND   IDOLATRY  229 

the  new  fire  was  got.  At  Callender,  in  Perthshire, 
all  the  boys  used  to  meet  on  the  moors  upon  the 
first  of  May,  which  they  called  Beltane  Day.  They 
cut  a  circular  trench  in  the  ground  of  such  circum- 
ference as  to  hold  the  company ;  the  round  green 
turf  in  the  middle  forming  the  table.  They  kindle 
a  fire,  apparently  on  this  circular  space,  and  dress 
a  repast  at  it.  Here  the  sanctity  of  the  altar  is, 
so  to  speak,  artificial.  It  is  due  to  the  act  of  kindling 
the  magical  element,  fire.  Out  of  the  reverence 
paid  to  fire  obtained  in  the  right,  that  is  to  say  the 
traditional,  manner,  there  grew  up  the  elaborate 
practices  connected  with  the  family  hearth  and  the 
worship  of  Vesta.  It  must  have  been  a  great 
innovation  when  the  dwelling  was  made  to  include 
the  hearth.  We  can  overhear  the  awful  warnings 
held  out  by  the  people  of  the  old  school,  whose 
fireplaces  had  always  been  separated  from  the 
dwelling.1  We  may  distinguish,  then,  between  the 
fire  altar  or  hearth,  and  the  altar  at  which  victims 
were  sacrificed. 

That  the  altar  is  of  greater  antiquity  than  the 
temple,  is  shown  by  the  fact  that  important  worships 
often  had  for  their  local  centre  an  altar  and  nothing 
more;  the  great  altar  of  Hercules  in  the  cattle 
market  for  instance.  When  temples  began  to  be 
erected,  the  altar  of  sacrifice  still  remained  in  the 
open,  while  the   temple   only  contained  the  sacred 

1  Hor.  Carm.  iii.  8,  4.      Gent.  Mag.  Superst.  51. 


23o        THE  WORSHIP   OF  THE  ROMANS 

hearth.  At  Nemi  the  great  altar  of  sacrifice  stood 
at  the  north-east  corner  of  the  temple  of  Diana. 
It  was  circular,  and  stood  upon  a  circular  base,  three 
steps  in  height.  A  stone  gutter  carried  away  the 
blood  of  the  victims. 

Roman  legends  spoke  of  a  time  when  as  yet  there 
were  no  images  of  the  gods.  For  one  hundred  and 
seventy  years  after  the  foundation  of  the  city,  the 
Romans,  it  was  declared,  continued  to  build  temples 
and  shrines  ;  but  they  neither  painted  nor  carved  the 
figure  of  any  of  their  deities.  So  Plutarch  says,  and 
he  gives  as  the  reason  the  influence  of  Pythagoras. 
But  if  the  Romans  had  not  as  yet  learnt  how  to 
portray  their  gods  in  marble  or  on  frescoes,  they 
did  not  leave  them  without  material  embodiments. 
Jove  was  believed  to  be  present  in  the  flint  which 
they  kept  in  the  temple  dedicated  to  him  as  Feretrius. 
Mars,  or  perhaps  Quirinus,  the  spear  god,  was  in  the 
spears  of  Praeneste,  and  in  that  which  the  herald 
hurled  into  the  enemy's  country  at  the  beginning 
of  a  war.  Vesta  was  the  fire  itself.  The  spirit  had 
scarcely  freed  itself  from  the  wonder-working  talis- 
man, and  the  primitive  mode  of  viewing  the  magical 
object  continued  side  by  side  with  the  higher.  So 
the  Brahman  explains  that  the  black  stones  marked 
like  ammonites,  which  some  Hindus  worship,  are 
really  manifestations  of  Vishnu,  while  Siva  is  em- 
bodied in  the  black  agate.  But  the  flint,  the  spear, 
and  the  fire  were  reverenced  before  it  was  found  that 


HOLY   PLACES  AND   IDOLATRY  231 

they  belonged  to  Jupiter,  or  Mars,  or  Vesta.  It  was 
the  pontiffs,  and  those  who  tried  to  patch  the  national 
customs  into  a  show  of  reason,  who  carried  out  this 
process  of  explanation.1 

The  Roman  standards  consisted  at  first  of  a  wisp 
of  hay  wound  round  a  pole.  This  must  have  been 
a  talisman  by  which  the  troops  were  protected.  It 
is  instructive  to  find  this  replaced  by  an  emblem 
consciously  referred  to  the  chief  deity  of  Rome. 
This  change  could  only  have  been  possible  when  the 
older  symbol  had  lost  its  magical  power.  Marius, 
in  his  reforms  of  the  Roman  military  system,  replaced 
the  wisp  of  hay  by  a  silver  eagle,  the  symbol  of  Jove. 
These  eagles  were  worshipped  by  the  legions  as  their 
guardian  spirits,  propria  numina  ;  and  during  foreign 
service  they  were  kept  in  a  small  shrine,  while  in 
time  of  peace  they  were  put  in  the  temple  of  the 
seed  spirit,  Saturnus.  It  is  reasonable  to  suppose 
that  they  succeeded  to  the  adoration  paid  to  the 
older  manipular  standard.2 

It  must  have  already  occurred  to  the  reader  that 
the  objects  offered  for  the  adoration  of  the  Roman 
were  exceedingly  numerous.  The  traveller  passing 
along  a  country  road  in  Latium,  would  have  his 
fancies  touched  by  "an  altar  wreathed  with  flowers, 
a  cave  hung  with  garlands,  or  an  oak  tree  laden  with 

1  Plut.  JVuma,  8.     M.   Williams,  Hinduism,    171.      Lyall,  Asiatic 
Stud.   10. 

8  Tac.  Ann.  il  17. 


232        THE   WORSHIP   OF   THE   ROMANS 

the  horns  of  cattle,  or  a  hill  marked  by  a  fence  as 
sacred,  or  a  log  rough-hewn  into  shape,  or  an  altar  of 
turf  smoking  with  libations,  or  a  stone  anointed  with 
oil."  But  they  were  not  venerated  always  because 
they  were  sacred  to  some  god.  They  inspired  awe, 
and  the  feeling  was  satisfied  by  some  story  through 
which  they  were  connected  with  some  god.  The 
enclosure  in  which  the  razor  and  grindstone  were 
buried,  never  attained  this  dignity.  This  single 
instance  is  enough  to  show  that  the  reference  to  a 
deity  is  not  indispensable.1 

From  this  assemblage  of  sacred  objects  there 
gradually  rise  into  prominence  the  altar  and  the 
image.  It  has  been  suggested  that  the  stone  pillar 
develops  into  the  marble  image,  while  the  sacred  tree 
or  log  is  fashioned  into  the  image  of  wood.  The 
images  of  the  divine  ancestors  of  Latinus  were  of 
old  cedar  wood.  Vertumnus  was  represented  by  a 
log  of  maple  roughly  hewn  into  shape.2 

If  we  may  judge  from  the  use  of  the  word  pater, 
along  with  the  names  of  Roman  deities,  they  were 
thought  of  as  like  men  of  mature  years.  It  must 
have  somewhat  shocked  their  worshippers  when  the 
Greek  artist  portrayed  Father  Mars  or  Father  Liber 
under  the  youthful  forms  of  an  Ares  or  Dionysus. 
It  seemed  as  if  this  were  due  to  pure  caprice  on 
the  part  of  the  artist.  The  complaint  was  made : 3 
"  We  make  acquaintance  with  the  gods  under  such 

1  Apul.  Florid.  Li.     2  R.  Smith,  Rel.  Sew.  187.     3  Cic.  N.  D.  i.  81. 


HOLY   PLACES   AND    IDOLATRY  233 

forms  as  pleases  the  painters  and  sculptors,"  a  charge 
that  might  have  been  brought  by  a  Roman  Catholic 
against  the  painters  of  the  Italian  Renaissance. 
Who  shall  say  how  far  the  grace  of  Raphael's 
Madonnas  contributed  to  impress  the  gracious  figure 
of  the  Virgin  upon  the  Italian  heart? 

After  making  all  deductions,  it  still  remains  true 
that  the  worship  of  images  is  an  advance  upon  that 
of  fetishes,  of  stocks  and  stones.  "The  images  of 
gods  and  heroes,"  says  Seneca,  "are  of  great  assist- 
ance to  the  mind  by  acting  as  spurs  to  the 
imagination,"  incitamenta  animi.  The  human  traits 
of  his  deities  caused  the  worshipper  to  transfer  to 
them  the  moral  consciousness  which  he  felt  more 
and  more  within  his  own  breast.  We  must  be  careful, 
however,  not  to  project  the  ideas  of  these  later  days 
to  the  ages  before  the  fetish  had  developed  into 
the  image.  The  hymns  of  the  Veda,  we  are  told, 
contain  no  indications  that  the  gods  were  worshipped 
under  any  visible  presentment.  But  it  must  be 
replied,  the  worship  was  paid  directly  to  the  element, 
and  not  to  its  personification.  Varuna  was  the  sky 
itself;  Agni,  like  Vesta,  the  flame;  Indra,  the  rain- 
cloud.  And  in  like  manner  the  praise  which  the 
Pythagoreans  of  the  empire  awarded  to  those  early 
Romans  who  worshipped  their  gods  without  making 
use  of  images,  is  based  on  a  misconception.1 

We  must  continually  bear  in  mind  the  diversity 
1  Sen.  Ep.  64. 


234        THE   WORSHIP   OF  THE  ROMANS 

of  temper  and  education  with  which  these  sacred 
objects  were  approached.  At  the  lowest  stage  comes 
the  man  who  views  all  worship  as  magical  in  its 
effects,  and  for  whom  there  is  no  hint  of  spiritual 
forces  in  the  events  which  attract  his  notice.  Next, 
there  is  the  man  for  whom  the  acts  and  circumstances 
of  his  ritual  are  interpreted  as  the  manifestation  of 
spiritual  powers.  And  lastly,  there  was  the  cultured 
pagan,  to  whom,  as  Mr.  Baring-Gould  says,  idolatry 
was  impossible.  The  gods  figured  in  marble  and 
bronze  were  to  him  symbols,  and  nothing  more.  It 
is  probable  that  these  different  temperaments  have 
been  found  side  by  side,  since  ages  so  remote  that, 
for  us,  they  must  be  treated  as  a  beginning.  There 
have  always  been  the  Peter  Bells  of  religion,  for 
whom  all  spiritual  interpretations  are  incompre- 
hensible ;  the  Levites,  for  whom  religion  is  confined 
to  the  ritual  and  practices  with  which  they  are 
familiar ;  and  lastly,  the  rarer  natures,  for  whom 
nothing  is  secular.1 

Not  only  were  the  image,  the  altar,  and  the  temple 
sacred.  This  character  was  attached  to  every  thing 
that  was  offered  to  the  gods.  A  man  was  guilty  of 
sacrilege  at  Rome  not  only  if  he  laid  hands  upon 
what  in  itself  was  sacred,  for  instance  the  image  in 
which  the  god  was  manifested,  but  also  if  he  took 
down  what  had  been  offered,  such  as  the  armour 
affixed  to  the  temple  walls.     The  temple  of  Diana  at 

1  Strange  Survivals ',  147. 


HOLY   PLACES  AND   IDOLATRY  235 

Nemi  was  frequented  by  large  numbers  of  pilgrims, 
who  came  to  implore  the  help  of  the  goddess  for 
their  ailments,  and  to  pay  their  vows  for  the  cures 
she  had  wrought.  Their  offerings  were  hung  upon 
the  walls  of  the  shrine,  and  on  other  surfaces  within 
the  sacred  precincts.  But  the  time  came  when  there 
was  no  room  for  more.  The  priests  thereupon  re- 
moved from  the  walls  the  offerings  that  had  become 
sacred  when  the  goddess  accepted  them,  and  buried 
them  in  pits,  favissce.  During  the  excavations 
carried  on  by  Lord  Savile  at  Nemi,  the  workmen, 
by  a  stroke  of  good  luck,  lighted  upon  one  of  these 
pits,  and  so  furnished  him  with  many  of  the  terra 
cotta  statuettes  which  are  now  in  the  Castle  Museum, 
Nottingham.  Alas,  the  worship  of  Diana  has  passed 
away,  like  a  many  other  things,  good  and  bad,  and  no 
one  fears  the  wrath  of  the  goddess  when  he  handles 
the  offerings  of  her  devotees !  In  Arabia,  in  like 
manner,  there  was  a  pit  adjoining  each  sanctuary  in 
which  the  sacred  treasure  was  stored.  It  was  desired 
once  to  lower  the  ground -level  near  the  Capitoline 
temple  at  Rome,  in  order  to  set  off  its  dimensions,  but 
the  project  had  to  be  given  up,  owing  to  the  cellars 
and  receptacles  which  were  under  the  surface  of  the 
site,  in  which  it  was  customary  to  place  statues  and 
other  sacred  objects  which  it  was  no  longer  possible 
to  display  in  the  temple.1 

The   ruin   into   which   the   temples  of  Rome   fell 

1  Cic.  Legg.  ii.  40.    R.  Smith,  ReL  Sem.  180.    Gell.  N.  A.  ii.  10. 


236        THE  WORSHIP   OF  THE   ROMANS 

during  the  later  Republic,  was  often  pointed  at  by 
the  later  court  poets  as  a  token  of  the  national  im- 
piety. According  to  Horace,  it  was  the  wickedness 
of  the  generation  before  him  that  had  permitted  the 
temples  to  fall  into  ruin,  and  the  images  of  the  gods 
to  become  blackened  with  smoke.  This,  however, 
was  an  exaggeration.  The  elaboration  of  the  house 
of  the  god  took  place  at  Rome  under  Greek 
influence,  and  this  process  was  interrupted  in  the 
turmoil  of  the  civil  wars.  For  at  Rome  the  temple 
did  not  stand  in  so  intimate  relation  to  worship 
as  in  Greece.  Ovid  speaks  in  a  Greek  spirit  when 
he  says  that  Augustus  had  placed  the  gods  under 
an  obligation  by  repairing  their  shrines.1 

"  Ancient  temples,"  says  Robertson  Smith,  "  are  not 
so  much  houses  where  the  gods  live,  as  storehouses 
for  the  vessels  and  treasuries  of  the  sanctuary." 
Hence  we  may  expect  their  earliest  form  to  be  the 
same  as  that  of  the  dwelling.  Mr.  Baring-Gould  has 
collected  some  very  interesting  data  which  prove 
the  wide  distribution  of  what  he  calls  the  beehive 
dwelling.  It  is  found  in  places  as  far  apart  as  "  the 
desert  of  Beersheba  and  the  dunes  of  Brittany,  the 
Hebrides,  the  Cornish  peninsula,  and  the  Pyrenees." 
The  primitive  Roman  dwelling  also  was  a  round  hut; 
constructed  with  walls  of  wood  and  straw  and  a 
thatched  roof.  Such  a  hut  was  maintained  on  the 
eastern  slope  of  the  Palatine  Hill.     It  was  called  the 

1  Hor.  Carm.  iii.  6.      Ovid,  Fasti,  ii.  62. 


HOLY   PLACES   AND   IDOLATRY  237 

Hut  of  Romulus,  casa  Romuli.  This  was  entrusted 
to  the  care  of  certain  priests,  who  preserved  it  as  far 
as  possible  in  its  original  state.  If,  however,  in  course 
of  time  it  suffered  any  harm  through  storms  or  other- 
wise, they  carefully  patched  it  up.  Some  English 
customs  seem  to  throw  light  on  this  Roman  one. 
"  On  two  of  the  most  conspicuous  eminences  of  the 
forest  of  Wolmer,"  says  Gilbert  White,  "stand  two 
arbours  or  bowers  made  of  the  boughs  of  oak ;  the 
one  called  Waldon  Lodge,  the  other  Brimstone 
Lodge ;  these  the  keepers  renew  annually  on  the 
feast  of  St.  Barnabas,  taking  the  old  materials  for  a 
perquisite.  The  farm  called  Blackmoor,  in  this  parish 
is  obliged  to  find  the  posts  and  brushwood  for  the 
former.  While  the  farms  at  Greatham  in  rotation 
furnish  for  the  latter,  and  are  all  enjoined  to  cut 
and  deliver  the  materials  at  the  spot.  This  custom 
I  mention,  because  I  look  upon  it  to  be  of  very 
remote  antiquity."  A  hut  is  sometimes  built  near 
the  Maypole,  as  the  dwelling  of  the  May-queen.  In 
Bohemia  a  similar  hut  is  used  in  the  spring,  as  the 
court  house  of  the  king  of  the  May.  It  would  be 
interesting  to  know  what  purposes  were  served  by 
the  hut  of  Romulus.  This  question,  however,  does 
not  concern  us  here.  We  have  merely  to  note  that  it 
was  regarded  as  sacred.1 

The  tomb  of  Caecilia  Metella  and  the  Castle  of  St. 

1  Rel,  Sem.    180.      Baring-Gould,  Strange  Survivals^  77.     Mann- 
hardt,  A.  F.  W.  i.  187,  315. 


238        THE   WORSHIP   OF  THE   ROMANS 

Angelo  exhibit  the  same  outward  form,  but  in  a  dress 
of  stone.  As  if  to  render  the  resemblance  complete, 
there  is  little  doubt  that  they  too  were  originally 
covered  with  a  conical  roof.  Thus  the  dwelling  of 
the  dead  was  like  that  of  the  living.1 

When  we  pass  from  the  tomb,  and  the  hut  of 
Romulus,  to  the  temple,  we  still  find  circular  build- 
ings ;  and  these  are  apparently  connected  with  the 
most  primitive  worships.  The  circular  shrine  in 
which  Vesta  was  reverenced  is  of  the  same  form  with 
the  home  of  the  prehistoric  Roman,  and  we  may 
reasonably  suppose  that  it  was  derived  from  that 
humble  source.  It  would  appear  that  this  building 
exhibits  to  us  the  transition  from  the  dwelling  to  the 
sanctuary ;  although  consecrated,  it  was  not  a  temple 
in  the  technical  sense.  The  temple  of  Fortune  at 
Praeneste  was  also  of  the  same  shape.  We  may 
presume  that  the  round  opening  in  the  dome  of  the 
Pantheon  was  repeated  in  these  other  buildings  of 
the  same  kind.  It  was  suggested  on  a  previous  page, 
that  the  opening  in  the  temple  roof  gave  the 
worshipper  an  opportunity  of  making  his  vows 
under  the  clear  sky.  This  may  have  been  the 
interpretation  put  upon  an  architectural  detail.  It 
seems  reasonable,  however,  to  see  here  a  kind  of 
chimney.  The  smoke  of  the  sacred  hearth  escaped 
by  this  means  into  the  open.  Further,  the  chimney 
itself,  although  it  may  have  taken  its  rise  in  simple 
1  Baum.  Denkm.  ill.  665,  666. 


HOLY   PLACES  AND   IDOLATRY  239 

necessity,  gained  probably  in  the  end  an  almost 
religious  meaning.  Just  as  the  augurs  were  for- 
bidden to  have  a  lid  to  their  lanterns,  so  the  roof  of 
the  dwelling  must  not  be  entirely  covered  in.  This 
feeling  may  perhaps  account  for  the  court  which 
forms  a  characteristic  feature  of  the  later  Roman 
house.1 

Vitruvius  credits  the  Tuscans  with  the  invention  of 
the  round  temple.  There  seems,  however,  to  be  no 
adequate  evidence  to  prove  this.  His  statement  is 
an  instance  of  the  manner  in  which  the  Roman 
antiquarians  at  one  time  credited  Etruria  with  every 
Roman  art,  just  as  at  another  time  everything  was 
traced  to  a  Greek  origin.  There  is  justification, 
however,  for  attributing  the  great  temple  of  Jupiter, 
on  the  Capitoline  Hill,  to  Etruscan  influence.  This 
was  completed  in  the  first  years  of  the  republic. 
The  style  of  the  building  differed  from  the  con- 
temporary Greek  manner  by  its  lighter  construction 
and  the  greater  use  of  wood.  Vitruvius,  in  describ- 
ing the  Tuscan  style,  lays  down  a  plan  in  which 
there  are  three  aisles,  the  central  one  being  wider 
than  the  sides  in  the  proportion  of  four  to  three. 
The  wide  spacing  of  the  columns  made  it  necessary 
to  form  the  entablature  of  wood.  This  was  orna- 
mented with  figures  of  terra  cotta  and  of  bronze. 
Of  course  the  whole  edifice  was  decorated  in  colour.2 

The  Tuscan  plan  was  modified  in  the  later  years 

x  Gell.  N,  A.  xiv.  7.  a  Vitruvius,  iii.  2  j  iv.  7. 


24o        THE   WORSHIP   OF   THE   ROMANS 

of  the  Republic  under  Greek  influence.  But  the  plan 
of  the  Roman  temple  differed  in  several  important 
particulars  from  the  Greek.  The  external  colonnade 
was  rarely  carried  round  all  four  sides.  The  Capito- 
line  temple  had  three  rows  of  columns  along  the 
front,  a  single  row  on  either  side,  and  none  at  the 
back.  Sometimes  there  were  columns  standing  free 
along  the  front  only,  as  in  the  temple  of  Saturn  in 
the  forum.  The  hall  of  the  temple,  too,  was  shorter 
in  proportion  to  its  width  than  in  the  Greek 
examples.  The  temple  of  Concord  was  even 
narrower  from  front  to  back  than  from  side  to  side. 
It  is  far  from  being  true,  then,  that  the  Roman 
temple  was  a  copy  merely  of  the  Greek.  In  fact, 
the  Greeks  themselves  imitated,  in  later  times,  the 
round  temple  which  was  so  characteristic  of  Rome. 

The  temple  was  not  only  like  a  church  in  its 
sacred  character.  It  combined  with  this  the  func- 
tions both  of  a  bank  and  a  museum.  The  State 
treasure  of  the  Republic  was  kept  in  the  temple  of 
Saturn.  The  thief  thus  became  guilty  both  of 
robbery  and  of  sacrilege.  The  votive  offerings  and 
the  sacred  vessels  made  the  temple  a  treasure  house, 
even  in  those  cases  in  which  it  was  not  formally 
employed  for  this  purpose.  To  some  extent,  then, 
the  Roman  temple  might  be  compared  to  the  Greek 
for  its  artistic  interest.  It,  too,  was  filled  with  statues 
and  paintings,  with  armour  taken  from  an  enemy, 
and   with    the    gifts    of   the    devout.      Or    to    take 


HOLY   PLACES   AND   IDOLATRY  241 

another  illustration,  it  was  like  the  great  churches  of 
mediaeval  towns,  round  which  gathered  the  intellec- 
tual interests  of  the  locality,  as  well  as  its  religious 
emotions.  The  vergers  acted  as  guides  to  the 
treasures,  pointing  out  their  value  and  meaning. 
Some  of  the  anecdotes  which  diversify  the  study  of 
Roman  origins  are  due  to  the  imagination  of  these 
humble  "  makers "  or  poets ;  if  we  may  apply  this 
lofty  title  to  all  those  who  exercise  the  creative 
imagination.  The  ancient  guide,  like  his  modern 
successor,  is  omniscient,  and  where  he  does  not 
remember,  he  invents  "  the  true  stories "  which  he 
recounts.  The  poverty  of  the  Roman  mythology  is 
largely  due  to  the  dull  fancy  of  the  Roman  sexton, 
while  the  ample  fund  of  legend  and  anecdote  which 
at  first  or  second  hand  was  gathered  by  Pausanias 
into  his  Guide  to  Greece,  came  largely  from  a  like, 
but  richer,  source. 

The  gable  of  the  temple  was  regarded  as 
especially  sacred.  Private  citizens  were  not  per- 
mitted to  employ  this  method  of  finishing  a  roof. 
It  was  one  of  the  chief  marks  of  Caesar's  eleva- 
tion above  his  fellow  citizens  that  he  was  allowed  to 
build  a  gable.  If  the  gable  was  brought  in  from 
Etruria  for  the  purposes  of  temple  building,  we 
can  understand  the  sanctity  which  attached  to  it. 
His  residence  was  thus  marked  out  as  of  a  sacred 

character.1 

1  Cic.  Phil.  ii.  no. 


242        THE   WORSHIP   OF   THE   ROMANS 

The  sanctity  of  the  Roman  temple  was  indicated 
specially  in  many  other  ways.  Wreaths  of  corn 
ears  were  hung  on  the  doors  of  Ceres.  The 
approach  to  the  shrine  of  the  Good  Goddess  was 
hung  with  purple  ribbons,  and  there  were  long 
branches  of  poplar  on  the  temple  walls.1  Another, 
and  less  pleasing  custom,  was  to  put  the  skulls  of 
the  slaughtered  victims  along  the  frieze,  and  to  unite 
them  with  garlands.  A  trace  of  this  has  remained 
in  the  carving  often  employed  to  adorn  the  Tuscan 
order,  with  exquisite  lack  of  propriety.  The  head 
of  the  animal  was  believed  to  contain  its  life,  and 
so  the  skull  of  the  animal  became  a  kind  of  talisman, 
protecting  the  building  from  harm.  In  the  Market 
Place  of  Cologne  there  is  an  attic  window,  from 
which  two  horses  seem  to  be  looking.  The  reason 
is  said  to  be  that,  in  1357,  two  horses  walked  right 
upstairs  into  the  garret.  They  were  got  down  again 
with  some  difficulty,  and  their  heads  were  stuffed  and 
put  there  in  remembrance  of  the  marvel.  When 
Mr.  Baring- Gould  inspected  them,  he  found  them 
to  be  of  wood.  This  story  reminds  one  of  the 
Roman  stories  of  the  cattle  that  go  upstairs.  Two 
of  these  are  told  with  every  circumstance  of  time 
and  place.  We  are  impelled  to  enquire  whether  they 
may  not  have  had  an  origin  like  that  of  Cologne ; 
whether  the  heads  of  both  horses  and  cattle  were 
not  fixed   upon   a   building   as   magical   safeguards. 

1  Prop.  V.  ix.  27. 


HOLY   PLACES   AND   IDOLATRY  243 

For  a  new  building  does  require  some  protection. 
It  is  still  found  that  new,  and  especially  unfinished, 
houses,  are  subject  to  inexplicable  noises  of  rapping 
and  the  like.1 

When  the  foundations  of  the  great  temple  were 
dug,  a  human  head  of  perfect  preservation  was  found 
by  the  workmen.2  It  is  more  than  likely  that  it  was 
put  there  intentionally.  The  belief  that  human  life 
must  be  sacrificed,  in  order  to  make  sure  the  founda- 
tions of  a  building,  is  very  widely  spread.  Even  if  it 
is  not  given  voluntarily,  there  is  still  no  escape.  Hiel, 
the  Bethelite,  laid  the  foundations  of  Jericho  with 
the  loss  of  Abiram  his  firstborn,  and  set  up  the 
gates  thereof  with  the  loss  of  his  youngest  son, 
Segub.  The  story  of  the  death  of  Remus  hints  at 
a  like  sacrifice  when  the  walls  of  the  Roman  city 
were  built.  The  victim  (who  was  probably  not 
called  Remus),  lost  his  life  in  order  that  atonement 
might  be  made  to  the  spirits  whom  the  new 
building  disturbed.  The  spirit  of  the  man  thus 
killed  became  a  ghost  and  haunted  the  place,  if  we 
may  apply  the  language  of  the  present.  Were  the 
Lares  the  spirits  of  the  men  killed,  when  the  city 
was  built?  We  may  compare  this  idea  with  that 
which  seems  to  underlie  the  devotion  of  the  Decii. 
Many   peoples   of  the  present   are   still   dominated 

1  Baring-Gould,  Strange  Survivals,  37.  Lang,  in  Class,  Rev,  vii. 
453.     Livy,  xxi.  62  ;  xxxvi.  37. 

2  Supra,  p.  149. 


244        THE   WORSHIP   OF   THE   ROMANS 

by  it.  In  i860  the  king  of  Burmah,  father  of 
Theebaw,  built  Mandalay.  Fifty-three  persons  were 
then  buried  alive,  three  under  each  of  the  twelve 
gates,  one  under  each  of  the  palace  gates,  and  four 
under  the  throne  itself.  This  usage  seems  to  have 
left  some  traces  at  Rome,  and  must  be  taken  account 
of  in  explaining  the  origin  of  Roman  beliefs.1 

1   1  A't'tigs,  xvi.  34.     Strange  Surviva/s,  35. 


THE    DIVINE   VICTIM 

JUST  as  in  the  land  certain  places  are  marked 
off  as  sacred  in  a  special  degree,  so  is  it  in  the 
community.  Out  of  the  sacred  character  which 
attaches  to  it  as  a  whole,  there  emerge  into  promi- 
nence the  special  sanctities  of  the  father,  the  king, 
the  priest,  and,  in  a  sense  that  will  appear  shortly, 
the  god. 

The  position  of  the  father  in  the  Roman  family, 
his  authority,  in  theory  unlimited,  over  his  children, 
seems  to  receive  explanation  when  it  is  viewed  in 
the  light  of  Roman  beliefs.  Not  only  were  his 
children  indebted  to  him  for  their  birth ;  they  were 
also  beholden  to  him  for  the  continuance  of  their 
life.  Plutarch  asks  why  the  Romans,  in  ancient 
times,  never  went  out  to  supper  without  taking  their 
young  sons  with  them,  even  when  they  were  still 
quite  young  children.  The  same  explanation  of 
this,  perhaps,  may  be  given  as  of  the  couvade.  The 
life  of  the  young  boy  is  bound  up  with  that  of  his 
father,  and  his  life  is  protected  by  nearness  to  his 
father.     There  is  a  sympathy  like  that  which  causes 


246        THE   WORSHIP   OF   THE   ROMANS 

the  father  to  be  tended  carefully,  in  some  parts  of 
the  world,  for  some  time  after  the  birth  of  his  child. 
More  than  this,  certain  offices  could  only  be  filled 
by  those  whose  father  was  still  alive ;  as,  for  instance, 
the  chief  place  among  the  ancient  body  of  heralds. 
In  the  priestly  character  which  attached  to  the 
Roman  father,  we  may  notice  that  he  did  not  derive 
his  sanctity  from  this  office.  It  was  his  sanctity 
rather  that  marked  him  out  for  it.  Whether  he 
made  offerings  at  the  family  hearth  to  the  fire  spirit, 
or  to  the  guardian  spirits  of  the  home,  or  to  the 
good  spirits  at  the  family  sepulchre,  or  at  the  boun- 
daries of  his  farm  to  the  boundary  spirits,  he 
performed  acts  which  in  part  owed  their  efficacy 
to  his  own  qualities  as  the  depositary  of  the  family 
life.1 

There  were  priestly  colleges  at  Rome,  and  there 
were  special  priesthoods ;  but  there  was  no  priestly 
order.  No  strict  line  was  drawn,  such  as  separates 
the  Brahman  from  the  other  castes,  or  the  priest 
from  the  laity  in  Roman  Catholic  countries.  For 
the  head  of  each  family  was  himself  possessed  of 
a  status  almost  sacerdotal.  Hence  there  was  no 
need  of  special  intermediaries  between  him  and  the 
gods.  And  this  still  held  of  the  citizen  when  he 
became  a  magistrate.  The  colleges  of  the  pontiffs, 
of  the  augurs,  of  the  fifteen,  and  of  the  seven,  were 
called   in  at  his  discretion.     They  might  not   give 

1  Plut.  R.  Q.  62. 


THE   DIVINE  VICTIM  247 

their  advice  unasked.  They  were  his  assistants  in 
acts  wherein  he  himself  was  the  chief  agent.  There 
are  other  indications  of  the  priority  enjoyed  by  the 
religion  of  the  family.  Even  the  highest  college  of 
all,  the  pontiffs,  could  not  make  innovations  there. 
When  Roman  society  was  shaken  to  its  depths  by 
the  affair  of  the  Bacchanalia,  the  Senate  did  not  dare 
to  interfere  with  such  private  celebrations  as  could 
not  be  interrupted  without  giving  rise  to  religious 
scruple.  Further,  considerable  freedom  was  permitted 
in  the  formation  of  new  religious  societies.  These 
might  have  common  funds,  a  master  of  ceremonies, 
and  their  own  priest.  Provided  that  the  new  rites 
did  not  interfere  with  the  due  observance  of  the 
old,  and  that  no  breach  of  order  took  place,  an 
uneasy  or  superstitious  conscience  could  seek  rest 
in  the  new  worships  with  which  the  Romans  came 
into  contact  in  Greece,  Asia,  Syria,  or  in  Egypt. 
Thus  the  influence  of  the  priestly  colleges  was  limited 
in  two  directions.  On  the  one  hand  were  the  ances- 
tral worships  of  the  family,  on  the  other  the  incoming 
worships  of  the  surrounding  nations.  Since,  then, 
the  citizen  took  precedence  of  the  priest,  Roman 
religion  was  guided  and  controlled  by  the  consider- 
ations of  statesmanship.  The  foreign  and  the  internal 
policies  of  Rome  were  governed  by  practical  motives 
alone,  to  the  exclusion  of  those  more  romantic 
purposes  which  illumine  the  history  of  some  of  the 
Greek  states,  or  of  mediaeval  Europe.     There  is,  it 


248        THE   WORSHIP   OF   THE   ROMANS 

is  true,  an  important  exception  to  this  assertion. 
The  conflict  of  the  patricians  and  the  plebeians  had 
in  its  earlier  stages  a  religious  colour.  Yet  there 
is,  perhaps,  no  more  need  to  attribute  entire  sincerity 
to  the  party  that  used  religious  considerations  as  a 
cloak,  than  to  those  who  took  the  leading  part  in 
opposing  the  admission  of  Dissenters  to  the  House 
of  Commons. 

The  most  ancient  priesthoods  seem  to  have  been 
hereditary.  This  was  the  case,  doubtless,  in  many 
instances  where  the  State  took  over  the  worship 
which  had  previously  been  that  of  a  single  family 
alone.  Thus  the  Luperci  were  chosen  from  the 
families  of  the  Fabii  and  the  Quinctilii.  The  worship 
of  Hercules,  at  the  great  altar,  was  originally  a  family 
worship  of  the  Potitii  and  Pinarii.  It  is  possible  that 
the  name  of  the  Flaminian  clan  is  derived  from  the 
name  of  one  of  the  special  priesthoods.  We  can 
trace  a  similar  transition  from  private  to  public 
worship  in  Israel.  The  children  of  Dan  sent  for 
the  priest  of  the  house  of  Micah.  "  And  they  carried 
off  the  gods  which  Micah  had  made,  the  graven 
image,  the  teraphim,  and  the  molten  image.  And 
they  said  unto  him,  Is  it  better  for  thee  to  be  priest 
unto  the  house  of  one  man,  or  to  be  priest  unto  a 
tribe  and  a  family  in  Israel?"  It  is  not  impossible 
that  a  priesthood  may  have  been  hereditary,  even 
when  it  involved  the  death  of  the  holder.  In  Bengal 
there   used    to   be   a   noble   family,   which   held    its 


THE   DIVINE   VICTIM  249 

domains  by  surrendering  one  of  its  number  to  be 
killed  by  the  sabre  of  the  king.  In  course  of  time 
the  ceremonial  was  modified.  The  man  fell  beneath 
the  sword,  but  it  was  merely  a  feint,  and  the  victim 
of  the  sham  decapitation  reappeared  three  days  after, 
giving  it  out  that  he  had  come  forth  from  the  tomb. 
A  like  severity  of  ancient  customs  seems  to  have 
left  traces  at  Rome.  The  clan  of  the  Manlii  at 
Rome  avoided  giving  the  name  of  Marcus  to  any 
son  born  in  the  clan.  We  may  infer  from  this  that 
the  possession  of  the  name  was  once  thought  to  be 
bound  up  with  evil  consequences.  Marcus  signified, 
probably,  Mars'  man,  or  sacred  to  Mars.  The  early 
Romans,  who  attached  such  extreme  importance  to 
names,  must  have  had  special  rules  to  guide  them 
in  the  use  of  the  praenomina.  The  legend  which 
explained  the  avoidance  of  this  name  was  incor- 
porated into  the  annals  of  Rome.  It  was  said  that 
Marcus  Manlius,  who  was  surnamed  Capitolinus,  was 
on  guard  in  the  citadel  on  the  Capitoline  Hill,  when 
he  was  aroused  by  the  clamour  of  the  sacred  geese. 
This  was  just  in  time  for  him  to  raise  the  alarm, 
and  to  repel  a  scaling  party  of  the  Gauls,  who  at 
the  time  were  in  possession  of  the  rest  of  Rome. 
Subsequently,  the  story  went  on,  he  was  found  guilty 
of  trying  to  establish  a  monarchy,  and  was  put  to 
death  by  being  thrown  from  the  Capitoline  Rock. 
If  we  suppose  that  he  held  one  of  the  priesthoods 
which  brought  with  them  kingly  attributes,  we  find 


250        THE  WORSHIP   OF  THE   ROMANS 

an  explanation  of  most  of  the  circumstances.  On 
the  one  hand,  it  would  account  for  the  charge  brought 
against  him  of  attempting  to  make  himself  king. 
On  the  other,  it  is  possible  that  some  superstition  was 
satisfied  by  his  death.  Some  half-forgotten  custom 
suggested  that  he  should  be  offered  as  a  sacrifice  to 
Jupiter  by  being  thrown  from  the  Tarpeian  Rock.1 
We  shall  see,  shortly,  that  the  priest  was  also  the 
sacrifice,  according  to  some  ancient  usages.  If  it 
was  a  family  custom  to  devote  to  the  priesthood 
those  only  of  its  members  who  were  named  Marcus, 
the  later  taboo  becomes  comprehensible. 

The  exact  truth  of  the  case  is  probably  beyond 
attainment.  We  are,  therefore,  left  to  hypotheses. 
Was  Manlius  the  Flamen  of  Jupiter?  As  priest  of 
the  great  temple,  he  would  also  have  charge  of  the 
sacred  geese.  If  he  took  advantage  in  any  way  of 
the  kingly  attributes  which  attached  to  this  priest- 
hood ;  if,  in  particular,  he  released  the  debtors  who 
were  in  chains,  we  can  understand  the  alarm  which 
such  action  would  arouse.2  The  rights  of  the  Flamen, 
in  this  respect,  are  paralleled  by  mediaeval  customs. 
"  According  to  the  Chronicle  of  Evesham,  it  appears 
that  in  1364  the  Abbot  of  Battel,  going  towards 
London,  met  a  felon  condemned  to  the  gallows  in  the 
King's  Marshalsea,  and  in  virtue  of  his  prerogatives, 
liberated  him  from  death.     And  although  the  King 

1  Judges,  xviii.     Reclus,  Prim.  Folk,  308.     Livy,  vi.  20. 

2  Supra,  p.  147. 


THE   DIVINE   VICTIM  251 

and  other  magnates  took  much  offence  at  the  act, 
yet,  upon  plea,  he  had  his  charter  confirmed."1 
Some  of  the  restrictions  which  limited  the  freedom 
of  the  Flamen  Dialis  seem  to  be  due  to  the  fear  that 
he  would  abuse  his  position  in  the  same  way  that 
Manlius  is  said  to  have  done.  In  fact,  the  office  was 
intentionally  degraded.2 

But  the  priest  of  Jupiter  was  more  than  the  holder 
of  certain  royal  prerogatives.  He  was  himself 
possessed  of  special  magical  virtues.  When  the 
transition  was  made  from  animism ;  when,  as  we 
may  imagine,  the  medicine-man  became  the  priest  of 
the  tribal  deity ;  his  powers  were  attributed,  not  to 
himself,  but  to  the  indwelling  of  the  god.  Indeed 
he  was,  in  a  certain  sense,  the  incarnation  of  the  god. 
So  the  Roman  general,  on  the  day  of  his  triumph, 
wore  a  tunic  embroidered  with  palm  branches  and 
victories,  and  a  toga  embroidered  with  gold  upon  a 
purple  ground.  He  carried  a  sceptre,  on  which  an 
eagle  sat.  Over  his  head  there  was  held  a  golden 
crown  of  oak-leaves  set  with  precious  stones.  All 
these  ornaments  were  borrowed  from  the  statue  of 
the  god  in  the  great  temple.  Moreover,  the 
countenance  of  the  general  was  painted  with 
vermilion,  in  the  same  way  as  was  done  to  the 
god  on  feast  days.  The  god,  then,  was  believed  to 
have  manifested  himself  in  the  victory  of  the  Roman 
troops.     So,  too,  when  the  games  were  held,  the  god 

1   Lower,  Chronicles  of  Battel  Abbey,  204.  3  Livy,  xxvii.  8. 


252        THE   WORSHIP   OF   THE   ROMANS 

himself  came  down  from  the  Capitol  in  the  person  of 
the  praetor,  who  was  attired  like  the  triumphing 
general.  It  was,  then,  as  the  embodiment  of  Jupiter, 
of  the  oak  spirit,  that  the  Flamen  was  regarded. 
Hence  he  was  forbidden  to  touch,  or  even  name, 
ivy. 

We  find  little  in  all  this  that  answers  to  the 
inspiration  of  a  priest  or  a  prophet  by  a  divine 
presence.  There  was  no  order  of  prophets  who 
claimed  to  be  the  mouthpieces  of  heaven,  like  the 
rishis  of  Hinduism  ;  who  caught  the  eternal  word,  or 
saw  the  sacred  message  written  by  the  hand  of  a 
god.  The  story  of  Numa  conversing  with  Jupiter  is 
a  later  invention.  Virgil's  description  of  the  inspira- 
tion of  the  priestess  of  Apollo,  rises  far  beyond  the 
levels  upon  which  the  Roman  imagination  moved. 
Holiness  and  the  prophetic  power  were  almost 
physical  properties,  which  marked  out  certain  men, 
and  even  things ;  the  Lots  of  Praeneste,  for  instance. 
The  profound  thought  that  the  personality  of  man 
may  be  the  vehicle  of  the  will  of  a  divine  being,  was 
first  brought  to  Rome  by  the  systems,  half  philo- 
sophical, half  theological,  which  came  into  favour  at 
the  end  of  the  Republic. 

The  traditional  history  of  the  Roman  monarchy  is 
made  up  largely  of  legends  invented  to  account  for 
various  institutions.  It  is  generally  admitted  that, 
taken  as  a  whole,  this  history  is  unreliable.  A  sharp 
line  is  drawn,  however,  at  the  expulsion  of  Tarquin, 


THE   DIVINE   VICTIM  253 

as  though  trustworthy  records  began  from  509  B.C. 
If  we  may  judge  from  parallel  examples  elsewhere, 
and  by  the  indirect  evidence  afforded  in  the  status  of 
the  Flamen  Dialis  and  the  king  of  worship,  the 
transformation  of  Rome  from  a  monarchy  into  a 
republic  was  gradual.  The  king  was  successively 
deposed  from  being  the  actual  into  the  titular,  and 
then  into  the  ritual  head  of  the  State.  He  gave 
way  before  his  magistrates  in  the  same  way  as  the 
Mikado  of  Japan  yielded  for  a  time  to  the  Tycoon, 
the  Merovingian  kings  of  France  to  the  mayors  of 
the  palace.  To  take  two  points  in  which  this  history 
of  the  end  of  the  monarchy  is  open  to  criticism :  the 
struggle  which  was  necessary  before  the  Etruscan 
kings  could  be  driven  out  seems  to  have  been  far 
more  intense  than  we  should  gather  at  first  view 
from  the  annals  ;  the  story  of  the  flight  of  Tarquin 
was  told  to  explain  the  regifugium,  of  which,  how- 
ever, quite  a  different  account  is  to  hand.  It  is 
reasonable  to  suppose  that  the  foreign  dynasty, 
which  ruled  de  facto,  was  content  to  allow  those 
whom  they  dispossessed,  to  exercise  their  ritual 
functions.1 

It  is  a  curious  fact  that  the  Flamen  Dialis  and  the 
king  of  worship  retained  many  marks  of  a  royal 
station.  The  Flamen  was  by  right  a  member  of  the 
Senate.  More  than  this,  he  had  the  curule  chair  and 
other  insignia,  which  marked  the  highest  offices  in 
1  Mommsen,  R.  H.  i.  330. 


254        THE   WORSHIP   OF  THE   ROMANS 

the  State,  and  were  almost  certainly  derived  from  the 
surroundings  of  the  monarch.  With  the  exception 
of  the  king  of  worship,  he  had  the  highest  place  at 
all  banquets.  He  seems  to  have  been  chosen  by  the 
same  ceremonies  as  that  other  high  officer.  The 
Romans  themselves  were  struck  by  his  royal 
character,  and  his  duties  were  said  to  have  been 
performed  by  King  Numa,  when  as  yet  there  were  no 
other  priesthoods.  If  he  was  the  successor  of  the 
monarch  as  far  as  his  priestly  duties  went,  we  can 
understand  certain  precautions  which  were  taken  to 
prevent  his  resuming  the  other  prerogatives.  He 
was  forbidden  to  see  the  citizens  girt  for  battle,  out- 
side the  walls.  In  the  same  way,  the  king  of  worship 
was  forbidden  to  exercise  any  magistracy,  and  to  ad- 
dress any  public  meetings  of  the  citizens.  The  royal 
ceremonies  by  which  he  was  chosen  are  described  by 
Livy.  His  chief  duties  consisted  in  certain  sacrifices 
to  Janus,  and  in  announcing  the  festivals  of  each 
month.  He  was  conjoined  with  the  Flamen  Dialis  in 
providing  the  wool  which  the  pontiffs  used  in  certain 
rites  of  purification.  This  fact,  and  the  resemblance 
between  the  position  of  the  king  of  worship  and  the 
Flamen,  lead  to  the  supposition  that  the  duties  of 
both  were  performed  once  by  the  king  of  Rome. 
This  was  the  case,  at  any  rate,  with  Numa  ;  if,  that  is, 
we  may  follow  popular  legends.  There  would  seem, 
then,  to  have  been  a  distribution  of  the  priestly  func- 
tions of  the  king,  analogous  to  that  of  his  political 


THE   DIVINE   VICTIM  255 

functions.  As  consul,  praetor,  and  censor  divided  the 
latter,  so  the  king  of  worship  and  the  Flamen  Dialis 
divided  the  religious  duties  between  them.  But  we 
are  not  informed  how  the  change  was  effected.1 

There  were  priest  kings  in  other  Latin  towns.  We 
learn  of  them  as  holding  office  at  Lanuvium,  Tus- 
culum,  and  Bovillae.  The  most  interesting  case  is 
the  king  of  the  wood  at  Aricia ;  upon  whose  sacred 
charge  Mr.  Frazer  has  founded  the  arguments  of  The 
Golden  Bough.  The  Arician  priest  was  attached  to 
the  temple  of  Diana,  and  obtained  his  office  by  the 
slaughter  of  his  predecessor.  In  expectation  of  a 
like  attack  from  another  ruffian,  he  was  armed 
always.  The  mad  emperor  Gaius,  thinking  that  the 
contemporary  priest  had  held  his  office  too  long,  sent 
down  against  him  a  picked  adversary.  Let  us  trace 
the  steps  by  which  the  voluntary  self-sacrifice  of  the 
king  degenerated  into  the  bribing  of  a  runaway  to 
hold  the  priesthood  at  the  risk  of  his  neck.2 

According  to  the  ancient  Norse  belief,  there  was  a 
great  tree  called  the  horse  of  Odin,  or  Yggdrasil,  and 
this  tree  supported  heaven  and  earth.  In  this  tree 
Odin  hangs  himself  for  nine  days  and  nights,  and  in 
his  tortures  he  sings  to  himself  an  ancient  song,  of 
which  the  words  have  come  down  : 

"  I  know  that  I  hung  on  the  tree  shaken  by  the  wind  nine 
live-long  nights, 
Pierced  by  the  spear,  holy  to  Odin,  holy  to  myself." 

1  Livy,  i.  20.     GelL  xv.  27.     Plut.  R.  Q.  63.     Ovid,  Fasti,  ii.  22. 
1  Strabo,  v.  239.    Suet.  Gaius,  35.     Wilm.  1326,  1757,  1773. 


256        THE   WORSHIP   OF   THE   ROMANS 

The  god  is,  in  many  other  cases,  the  victim  as  well. 
There  is  a  text  in  the  Brahmanas  which  runs,  "  The 
lord  of  creatures  offered  himself  a  sacrifice  for  the 
gods."1 

The  gallows  was  indeed  at  first  a  tree,  as  the  name 
of  a  street  in  Leicester  shows,  Gallowtree  Gate ;  and 
it  was  regarded  as  sacred  to  Odin.  The  belief  in  the 
world  tree  grew  out  of  the  belief  in  the  sacredness  of 
those  trees  which,  according  to  the  popular  notion, 
had  an  influence  upon  the  crops  and  herds  of  the 
villagers.  The  hanging  on  the  gallows  answers  to 
the  offering  of  a  human  victim  to  the  tree  spirit,  or 
as  we  may  say,  it  binds  the  life  of  the  tree  to  that  of 
the  community  through  the  victim.  Strange  as  these 
ideas  may  seem  to  us,  they  were  part  of  the  system  of 
ideas  in  which  the  primitive  mind  moved.  Even  the 
human  beings  on  whom  fell  the  melancholy  lot  of 
sacrifice,  accepted  the  stern  office  without  resentment. 
We  must  not  regard  these  usages,  therefore,  as  simple 
cruelty  done  by  the  tribe  to  one  of  its  members.  If 
we  may  judge  by  the  stories  of  Curtius  and  the  Decii, 
the  office  of  victim  was  sought  rather  than  shunned. 
So,  too,  the  example  of  Odin  found  royal  imitators. 
To  die  for  his  people  was  a  lofty,  though  awful, 
privilege  of  the  monarch.  The  idea  of  substitution 
was  familiar  to  Virgil.  "One  life  shall  be  given 
for  many,"  he  sings.  An  instance  is  recorded  in 
the   Heimskringla  of  a  king  named  Olaf,  who  was 

1  B. -Gould,  Strange  Survivals,  239.    M.  Williams,  Hinduism,  36. 


THE   DIVINE   VICTIM  257 

dedicated  to  Odin  upon  the  occurrence  of  bad  har- 
vests. Another  king  hanged  himself  upon  the  gallows, 
of  his  own  free-will,  as  an  offering  to  Odin.  Who  can 
tell  what  inducements  were  held  out  in  those  earliest 
days  to  the  man  who  died  for  the  people  ?  Did  the 
popular  voice  promise  a  life  of  everlasting  bliss  to  the 
ancient  king  of  the  wood,  when  he  was  slaughtered  at 
the  foot  of  his  holy  tree?  Or  was  it  that  he  was 
thought  to  become  a  god  by  the  very  act  of  immo- 
lation ?     This  last  is  a  very  probable  explanation. 

If  the  victim  becomes  divine  in  the  act  of  sacrifice, 
the  form  of  his  death  will  be  attributed  to  the  spirit 
whom  he  represents.  Hence  in  some  cases  we  may 
argue  from  the  legends  of  the  god's  death,  to  the  form 
of  the  sacrifices  said  to  be  made  to  him.  We  may 
suppose  that  the  priests  who  represented  Dionysus 
were  torn  asunder  by  wild  horses,  rent  in  pieces  by 
the  worshippers,  or  thrown  into  the  sea.  The  death 
of  Heracles  on  Mount  Oeta  was  enacted  in  grim 
earnest  on  Greek  mountain  peaks,  and  may  have 
had  its  prototype  in  sacrifices  such  as  those  of  the 
Jews  in  the  valley  of  Hinnom.  Just  as  the  Greek 
god  was  burnt  on  the  hill-top,  so  the  contemporaries 
of  Jeremiah  built  the  high  places  of  Baal  to  burn 
their  sons  in  the  fire  for  burnt  offerings  unto  Baal. 

A  mode  of  human  sacrifice,  which  was  practised 
till  quite  recently  among  the  Khonds,  throws  light 
upon  the  ideas  which  we  are  considering.  The 
human  victim,  meriah  or  mediator,  was  regarded  as 

R 


258        THE  WORSHIP   OF  THE  ROMANS 

the  embodiment  of  the  deity  Tari,  and,  before  the 
sacrifice,  she  was  worshipped  as  such.  On  the  eve 
of  the  solemnity,  she  was  washed  and  arrayed  in  new 
clothes.  She  was  then  taken  from  door  to  door,  and 
led  away  into  the  forest.  A  pole,  thirty  or  forty  feet 
high,  was  raised.  This  was  wreathed  with  flowers, 
and  surmounted  by  a  peacock's  head.  There  she 
was  bound,  and  left  until  the  following  day.  When 
the  appointed  hour  came,  a  potion  of  opium  was 
given  to  stupefy  her,  in  order  that  she  might  not 
seem  to  struggle  against  the  doom  awaiting  her. 
The  priest  struck  the  first  blow,  and  then  all  the 
crowd  rushed  upon  her,  rending  her  piecemeal  in 
order  that  they  might  participate  severally  in  the 
virtues  of  her  flesh  and  blood.  When,  in  the  years 
1 848-1 85 2,  the  government  of  India  took  measures 
to  end  this  savage  practice,  the  Khond  theologians 
saw  the  force  of  the  arguments  which  could  be 
brought  against  human  sacrifice,  especially  when 
they  were  supported  by  the  British  troops.  It 
appeared  that  the  goddess  could  be  represented  by 
an  animal,  as  well  as  by  a  human  being.1 

When  it  was  not  possible  to  find  persons  offering 
themselves  for  sacrifice,  they  were  taken  by  com- 
pulsion ;  the  lot  being  used  to  indicate  those  who 
were  acceptable  to  the  god,  or  to  the  lot  itself. 
Captives  taken  in  war,  strangers,  and  criminals,  were 
welcome  substitutes  for  the  lives  of  citizens.     When 

1  Reclus,  Prim.  Folk,  320. 


THE   DIVINE   VICTIM  259 

the  Germans  defeated  Varus,  they  slaughtered  their 
captives  as  offerings  to  Odin,  and  the  avenging  army 
which  Germanicus  led,  found  the  heads  of  their 
countrymen  hanging  upon  the  sacred  trees.  In  the 
West  of  England  there  are  fields  which  go  by  the 
name  of  Gallowstraps,  about  which  the  people  say 
that  whoever  sets  foot  upon  them  is  destined  for  the 
gibbet.  Mr.  Baring-Gould  suggests  that  this  belief 
grew  out  of  the  custom  of  setting  certain  spots  aside 
as  sacred,  and  sacrificing  to  the  god  those  who  un- 
wittingly set  foot  upon  them.  The  Romans  buried 
four  foreigners  alive  in  the  forum  in  historical  times. 
It  is  noteworthy  also  that  the  king  of  the  wood  was  a 
stranger.1 

It  seems  paradoxical,  at  first  sight,  to  include 
criminals  among  holy  persons.  We  find  many 
indications,  however,  of  their  sacred  character.  The 
criminal  hanged  upon  a  tree,  among  the  Israelites, 
was  said  to  be  "the  curse  of  God."  It  appears, 
however,  that  the  human  beings  so  killed  were 
regarded  as  offerings.  When  the  Gibeonites  took 
the  sons  of  Saul,  "they  hanged  them  in  the  hill 
before  the  Lord."  In  ancient  Germany  the  priests, 
alone,  had  the  office  of  punishing  criminals,  "  As 
though,"  Tacitus  says,  "  it  was  by  command  of  the 
god."  At  Rome  the  eighth  of  the  Twelve  Tables 
said :  "If  a  patronus  is  guilty  of  fraud  towards  a 
client   let   him   be  accursed,"  sacer,  literally  sacred. 

1  Tac.  Ann.  i.  61.     Strange  Swvivals,  242. 


26o        THE   WORSHIP   OF   THE   ROMANS 

A  contemporary  decree  of  the  people  explains  this 
sacred  character,  when  it  consecrates  to  Jupiter  the 
life  of  any  man  who  did  violence  to  the  tribunes. 
By  the  laws  of  the  Twelve  Tables,  further,  the  corn 
thief,  if  he  was  an  adult,  was  hanged  as  an  offering 
to  Ceres.  In  this  way  human  sacrifice  was  kept 
up  at  Rome  long  after  it,  apparently,  had  ceased ; 
just  as  in  England,  to  this  day,  murderers  expiate 
their  crime  on  what,  by  strict  and  uninterrupted 
descent,  is  the  tree  of  Odin.  If,  then,  the  criminal 
was  one  who  had  broken  a  tribal  rule,  or  had  tres- 
passed upon  the  dues  of  a  tribal  deity,  the  gravity 
of  his  wrong-doing  was  not  measured  primarily 
either  by  his  intention,  or  by  the  actual  amount  of 
his  act ;  it  was  referred  to  the  harm  which  might 
thereby  come  upon  his  countrymen.  Hence,  the 
apparent  severity  of  ancient  codes.  They  looked 
away  from  the  criminal  altogether.  The  sin  of 
Achan  was  not  great  in  itself,  but  in  the  opinion 
of  the  Hebrew  chronicler  it  caused  the  defeat  of 
his  countrymen,  and  was  but  inadequately  recom- 
pensed by  the  stoning  of  the  criminal,  and  the 
burning  of  "his  sons  and  his  daughters,  and  his 
oxen,  and  his  asses,  and  his  sheep."1 

We  may  infer,  then,  that  the  death  of  the  king 
of  the  wood  was  but  an  isolated  survival  of  many 
rites  in  which  human  sacrifice  played  a  leading  part. 
Nor  shall  we  be  surprised  to  find  that,  in  later  times, 

1  Pliny,  N,  H,  xviii.  12.         /oshua,  vii.  24. 


THE   DIVINE  VICTIM  261 

such  immolation  was  limited  to  the  guilty  who  had 
been  convicted  before  a  civil  tribunal,  or  to  the 
innocent  who  chose  to  die  as  a  voluntary  sacrifice. 
The  voluntary  immolation  seems  to  be  the  most 
ancient  type  of  all,  while  the  execution  of  a  criminal 
is  a  survival  from  the  latest  type.  Even  in  97  B.C. 
the  Roman  government  found  it  necessary  to  prohibit 
human  sacrifice.1 

It  appears  that  human  sacrifice  may  leave  its 
traces  in  the  manner  by  which  criminals  are  executed. 
Hence  we  may  argue,  sometimes,  from  the  punishment 
to  its  origin.  A  guilty  vestal  virgin  was  buried  alive. 
This  was  an  ancient  form  of  sacrifice,  as  appears 
from  the  story  of  the  burial  of  the  Greeks  and  Gauls 
in  the  forum.  The  vestal  virgins  then,  may  have 
once  been  victims  set  aside  for  the  service  of  the 
fire  spirit,  with  a  view  to  being  offered  to  him.  The 
office,  it  appears,  was  one  to  be  shunned.  Not  more 
than  one  fire  maiden  was  "  taken "  from  a  single 
family,  and  the  office  of  flamen,  augur,  etc.,  excused 
the  daughter  of  its  holder.2 

The  flamens  and  the  augurs  also  were  said  to  be 
"taken,"  in  sacrificial  language,  as  though  by  an  act 
in  which  they  themselves  had  no  voice.  The  curious 
story  of  a  man  who  was  made  Flamen  Dialis  against 
his  will,  shows  that  the  office  was  not  always  volun- 
tarily undertaken  in  later  times.  It  was  surrounded 
by  elaborate  restrictions  which  may  have  arisen,  in 
1  Mommsen,  R.  H.  i.  181 ;  iii.  438.  3  Gell.  i.  12. 


262        THE  WORSHIP   OF  THE   ROMANS 

part,  from  his  liability  to  be  made  a  sacrifice,  like 
those  which  the  Khonds  observed  with  the  meriahs, 
or  the  Mexicans  with  their  human  victims,  or  the 
Carthaginians  with  the  children  whom  they  set  aside 
for  offering  to  the  king,  Moloch.  It  is  not  neces- 
sary to  suppose  that  the  vestals,  or  the  augurs, 
or  the  flamens,  were  viewed  at  any  time  as 
doomed  to  inevitable  sacrifice.  But  as  depositaries, 
or  channels  of  divine  influence,  they  were  marked 
out  for  such  an  end,  if  the  interests  of  the  community 
seemed  to  demand  unusual  measures,  either  of  pre- 
caution or  of  remedy.  Hence  the  rules  by  which 
their  sacred  character  was  preserved  inviolate,  were 
also  the  rules  by  which  they  were  kept  fit  for 
sacrifice. 

Other  rules  by  which  the  flamen  was  governed 
may  have  had  an  historical  origin,  such  as  we  have 
seen  in  the  case  of  Manlius.  Other  rules  again, 
perhaps  those  which  relate  to  his  food,  may  have 
been  caste  rules,  like  those  of  the  higher  caste 
Hindus.  In  later  times,  however,  the  original  mean- 
ing of  these  restrictions  was  lost,  and  they  were 
regarded  as  curious  merely,  when  they  were  not  felt 
as  burdensome.  In  the  light  of  these  various  con- 
siderations, it  may  be  possible  to  trace  the  sources 
of  many  of  the  numerous  particulars  given  by 
Plutarch  and  Gellius. 

So  far  as  any  conscious  purposes  can  be  discerned 
in    them,   they    seem    to    be    directed    against    the 


THE   DIVINE   VICTIM  263 

possibility  of  pollution  in  the  sense  already  defined, 
and  also  against  any  enchantments  which  might 
entrap  the  soul  of  the  sacred  individual,  or  separate 
him  from  the  city,  of  which,  in  some  dim  sense,  he 
was  one  of  the  safeguards. 

Originally  the  flamen  was  not  permitted  to  be  a 
single  night  away  from  Rome ;  such  absence  being 
accounted  "impious."  Yet  within  the  bounds  of  Rome 
his  spirit  must  be  allowed  to  go  free.  We  have  seen 
that  he  might  not  employ  a  knot  in  his  clothing,  and 
all  rings  that  he  wore  had  to  be  broken.  In  order 
that  even  in  sleep  he  should  not  be  severed  from 
the  city  soil,  the  feet  of  his  couch  were  smeared  with 
mud.  Another  might  not  sleep  there,  and  he  was 
further  protected  from  evil  by  charms  at  the  head 
of  his  bed,  namely,  a  bag  containing  iron  and  straw. 
Since  his  life  was  especially  resident  in  his  head, 
many  precautions  were  taken  to  guard  it.  His  hair 
might  not  be  cut  by  one  who  was  not  a  member 
of  the  community.  He  might  not  anoint  himself  in 
the  open,  and  when  he  was  out  of  doors  he  always 
wore  the  apex  or  cap,  with  a  small  wooden  spike 
at  the  top  wound  round  with  wool.  The  cap  was 
made  of  the  wool  of  the  white  thick-fleeced  wethers, 
altilanei,  which  were  sacrificed  to  Jupiter.  The  spike 
was  taken  from  some  "  lucky "  tree,  so  that  the  life 
of  the  priest  was  put  under  its  protection.  His  hair 
and  nails  were  buried  under  the  same  tree.1 
1  Gell.  x.  15.     Plut.  R.  Q.  40,  44,  50,  109- 113. 


264        THE   WORSHIP   OF   THE   ROMANS 

No  one  could  be  chosen  as  the  flamen  of  Jupiter 
unless  he  were  born  of  parents  whose  marriage  had 
been  celebrated  according  to  the  ancient  rite  of 
confarreatio.  The  same  regulation  applied,  doubtless, 
to  his  wife,  flaminica.  They  must  have  been  married, 
too,  in  the  same  manner.  Here,  to  all  appearances, 
we  find  an  instance  of  religious  conservatism.  The 
innovations  to  which  civil  life  was  exposed,  were  kept 
away  from  the  circle  of  the  priesthood  as  far  as 
possible.  Arguing  from  this,  we  might  conclude  that 
the  life  of  the  private  citizen  was  limited  at  one  time 
by  many  taboos,  like  those  of  the  flamen. 

In  his  election,  three  candidates  had  to  be  named 
with  the  due  qualifications  of  birth,  and  the  chief 
pontiff  made  his  selection  from  them.  The  ancient 
marriage  rituals  fell  into  disuse  with  the  lapse  of 
time,  and  in  the  year  24  A.D.  it  was  impossible  to 
find  persons  fitted  to  serve.  Provided  the  traditional 
requirements  were  satisfied,  the  moral  character  of 
the  candidate  was  not  thought  of  great  moment. 
In  fact,  a  young  man,  C.  Valerius  Flaccus,  was  chosen 
flamen,  during  the  second  Punic  war,  precisely  because 
his  character  was  very  bad.  Livy,  inspired  by  later 
ideas,  was  shocked  by  the  apparent  impiety,  and 
would  have  passed  over  the  story  in  silence,  except 
for  its  good  tendency.  Valerius  had  been  careless 
and  dissolute.  At  last  his  relatives,  in  despair, 
bethought  themselves  that  the  strict  rules  by  which 
the  life  of  a  flamen  was  encompassed  might  act  as 


THE   DIVINE  VICTIM  265 

a  check  upon  the  young  rake.  The  pontiff  became 
an  accomplice  in  the  family  plot,  and  Valerius  was 
chosen  against  his  will.  However,  he  surprised 
everyone  by  devoting  himself  to  the  duties  of  his 
office,  and  commanded  the  respect  of  the  city  to 
such  an  extent  that  he  claimed,  and  succeeded  in 
regaining,  the  seat  in  the  Senate  which  was  the 
flamen's  by  prescription,  but  had  remained  unfilled, 
owing  to  the  mean  position  of  his  predecessors.1 

The  election  of  the  flamen  took  place  at  a  meeting 
of  the  people  specially  summoned,  comitia  calata, 
at  which  they  did  not  vote,  but  came  together  to 
hear  the  will  of  the  gods.  The  pontiff  discovered 
this  by  divination.  But  the  Roman  magistrates 
understood  already  the  art  of  finding  the  desired 
omens,  as  appears  from  the  tale  about  Valerius.  The 
office  thus  assigned,  ostensibly  by  the  will  of  heaven, 
took  precedence  even  of  the  authority  of  the  father, 
and  the  flamen  was  the  only  man  who  escaped  from 
the  power  of  his  ascendant.2 

The  Flamens  of  Mars  and  Quirinus  ranked  along 
with  the  priest  of  Jupiter.  The  same  birth  qualifica- 
tions were  demanded  of  them.  But  they  were  not 
bound  by  restrictions  so  severe.  They  even  filled 
the  governorships  of  the  provinces.  Theoretically 
the  Flamen  Dialis  might  not  leave  Rome.  In  prac- 
tice this  rule  was  not  observed,  and  on  such  occasions 
his  functions  were  carried  out  by  the  pontiff. 

1  Tac.  Ann.  iv.  16.     Livy,  xxvii.  8.  ■  Gaius,  i.  130. 


266       THE  WORSHIP  OF  THE  ROMANS 

Human  sacrifice  may  leave  its  traces  in  the  rules 
of  the  priesthood.  But  there  is  one  particular  kind 
of  act  which  was  not  so  much  symbolical  of  sacrifice, 
as  equivalent  to  it.  The  banishment  of  a  citizen,  his 
interdiction  from  fire  and  water,  was  from  the  point 
of  view  of  law,  his  civil  death.  We  may  be  sure 
that  it  was  no  sentimental  repugnance  to  the  shed- 
ding of  blood  which  led  the  Romans  to  expel  a 
criminal,  rather  than  put  him  to  death.  Here,  too, 
the  civil  act  of  later  times  can  be  traced  to  the  ritual 
practices  of  earlier.  The  banishment  of  Cicero  was 
one  of  a  continuous  series  of  usages  which  carries  us 
back  to  the  "  sacred  spring,"  in  which  bands  of  young 
citizens,  devoted  to  Mars,  used  to  be  driven  forth  to 
seek  their  fortunes  outside  the  national  boundaries. 

The  festival  of  the  twenty-fourth  of  February  or 
regijugium,  may  indeed  date  back  to  the  time  when 
the  early  monarchy  was  brought  to  an  end.  But 
there  was  another  festival  on  the  twenty-fourth  of 
May,  on  which  the  king  of  worship,  so  it  was 
believed,  acted  the  flight  of  Tarquin.  After  making 
a  sacrifice  in  the  comitium,  he  fled  from  the  forum. 
At  Delphi,  every  ninth  year,  there  were  special 
festivals,  and  on  one  of  these,  the  Feast  of  Crowns, 
ceremonies  were  performed  somewhat  like  the  flight 
of  the  king.  The  explanation  given  was  that  they 
imitated  the  flight  of  the  god  after  his  battle  with 
the  python.  In  the  May  festival  at  Rome,  then,  we 
light  upon  one  of  those  ritual  acts  which  are  to  be 


THE   DIVINE  VICTIM  267 

explained  by  the  rules  of  magic,  rather  than  by- 
reference  to  an  historical  event  of  which  they  are  the 
memorials.  The  flight  of  the  king  at  Rome,  and  of 
the  god  at  Delphi,  was  like  the  driving  out  of  the 
scarecrow  from  English  villages.  A  figure  of  death 
was  anciently  borne  by  the  young  men  into  the 
villages,  from  which  it  was  driven  by  the  people  who 
disliked  it  as  an  ominous  appearance,  while  some 
gave  them  money  to  remove  the  mawkin}  Some- 
times the  part  of  the  "  mawkin  "  is  acted  by  one  of 
the  company,  and  then  the  likeness  to  the  antique 
usages  becomes  closer.  So  the  old  Mars  was  driven 
out  of  the  city  on  the  first  full  moon  of  the  Roman 
year.  The  flight  of  the  priest-king  seems  to  have 
the  same  meaning  as  the  flight  of  the  god. 2 

The  results  to  which  recent  investigations  in  the 
subject-matter  of  this  chapter  are  tending,  and  to 
which  they  have  led  us,  may  be  summarised  briefly. 
The  priestly  character  is  at  first  combined  with  that 
of  the  monarch,  and  depends  upon  certain  magical 
attributes  inherent  in  the  person  of  the  priest. 
These  attributes  are  referred  to  the  presence  of  a 
divine  influence,  so  that,  in  a  sense,  one  man  is  king, 
priest,  and  god.  Through  his  death,  the  communal 
life  is  renewed  ;  the  interpretations  of  this  renewal 
being  various.  The  victim  may  be  killed  either  to 
make  way  for  a  stronger  representative  of  the  god, 
or — what  after  all  comes  to  the  same  thing — he  is 

1  (?)  May  King.  *  Plut.  Q.  G.  12.     Hampton,  i.  234. 


268       THE  WORSHIP  OF  THE  ROMANS 

supposed  to  have  received  pollution  and,  in  being 
driven  away,  he  carries  off  the  evils  of  his  people. 
When  the  notion  of  an  external  deity  becomes  clear, 
these  magical  interpretations  yield  to  theological 
ones.  The  slaughter  or  expulsion  of  the  divine 
priest  is  thought  to  be  grateful  to  the  god  of  the 
nation.  It  is  at  this  moment  of  transition  that 
the  profound  idea  seems  to  have  sprung  up,  that 
the  god  was  offered  to  himself  in  the  person  of 
the  sacrifice. 


THE    SACRED   DRAMA 


WHEN  the  ceremonial  of  Rome  is  considered  in 
its  detail,  it  is  found  to  be  a  kind  of  repre- 
sentation of  the  ends  to  which  it  is  directed.  Just  as 
the  pontifical  lists  enumerated  the  operations  of  the 
husbandman  by  the  names  of  the  corresponding 
deities,  so  the  acts  of  Roman  ritual  prefigured,  in  a 
language  of  gesture,  the  purposes  for  which  sacrifice 
was  offered.  The  sacred  calendar  was  a  perpetual 
masque  of  the  seasons,  in  which  the  life  of  the  farmer 
was  reflected  as  in  a  magic  mirror.  Through  these 
traditional  rites  the  life  of  the  land,  of  the  trees  and 
corn,  of  the  cattle,  and  of  the  citizens  themselves,  was 
renewed  from  time  to  time,  and  a  limit  was  set 
continually  to  that  process  of  degeneration  which 
never  ceased. 

When  the  ceremonial  of  the  holy  day  was  being 
performed  under  the  eyes  of  an  expectant  throng, 
the  very  air  must  have  seemed  to  strain  towards 
the  mystic  issues  of  sacrifice.  We  cannot  restore, 
after  all  these  years,  the  exquisite  and  complex 
emotion   which    gave    and    took    colour    amid    the 


270        THE   WORSHIP   OF  THE   ROMANS 

solemn  circumstances  of  worship.  It  is  possible, 
nevertheless,  to  sum  up  the  details,  and  combine 
their  several  contributions  to  the  whole  effect. 
We  can  also  mark  off  those  salient  distinctions  of 
temper  which  are  often  overlooked  because  of  their 
very  prominence,  as  we  try  to-  enter  the  Roman 
mind  through  the  portals  of  our  own. 

Ancient  ritual  in  Rome,  as  in  Greece  and  Pales- 
tine, was  essentially  joyous.  The  ceremonies  of 
worship  brought  together  the  citizens  in  friendly 
concourse,  and  added  social  interests  to  the  deeper 
excitements  of  religion.  For  the  poorer  classes  they 
furnished  the  sole  occasions  on  which  flesh-meat 
entered  into  their  diet.  Answering  to  this  festal 
character,  the  surroundings  of  sacrifice  took  upon 
themselves  more  and  more  splendour,  as  the  material 
wealth  of  the  city  increased.  So  far  as  this  change 
threw  more  expense  upon  the  worshipper,  it 
threatened  to  cut  ofT  the  national  religion  at  its  very 
root,  in  the  affections  of  the  frugal  peasant.  But  the 
good  sense  of  the  Roman  held  by  the  simpler  usages 
of  Numa.  The  poor  man,  making  a  scanty  gift  with 
his  prayers,  was  as  sure  of  securing  the  divine  favour, 
as  his  wealthy  countryman.  Cicero  declares  that 
uprightness  is  more  acceptable  than  lavish  offerings. 

It  was  the  privilege  of  the  rich  citizen  to  furnish 
the  means  for  the  seasons  of  public  enjoyment. 
These,  by  their  frequent  occurrence,  broke  in  upon 
and  relieved  the  monotony  and  hardship  of  life  at  a 


THE  SACRED   DRAMA  271 

low  level.  At  Rome  nearly  every  other  day  was  a 
holy  day.  Our  national  history,  in  its  later  develop- 
ments since  the  Reformation,  incapacitates  us  from 
understanding  this  aspect  of  pagan  religions. 
Mediaeval  usages,  indeed,  brought  down  the  un- 
broken tradition  of  religious  festivity  to  the  middle 
of  the  seventeenth  century.  Our  northern  tempera- 
ment, however,  dwarfed  and  distorted  by  mistaken 
views  of  religion  and  of  life,  has  lost  for  a  time  that 
capacity  for  serious  and  reflecting  enjoyment,  which 
is  one  of  the  best  heirlooms  of  humanity.  In  our 
insular  pride  and  ignorance,  we  scoff  at  the  festivals 
of  the  Roman  Church  as  survivals  from  Paganism. 
But,  in  this  respect,  the  religion  of  Numa  and  its 
Christian  successor  answer  to  an  intrinsic  quality  of 
man's  nature,  and  can  be  judged  by  their  fruits.  The 
music  of  Palestrina  is  as  noble  as  the  plantation 
melodies  of  Mr.  Sankey,  and  the  sculpture  of 
Amiens  bears  comparison,  for  spiritual  beauty,  with 
those  inscriptions  upon  foundation  stones,  in  which 
all  the  expressiveness  of  our  religious  edifices  is 
concentrated. 

The  hilarity  of  ancient  religion  is  the  clue  to  that 
strange  mixture  of  devotion  and  levity,  which  sur- 
prises us  in  the  comedies  of  Aristophanes,  and,  to 
some  extent,  in  Roman  religion,  as  in  the  absurd 
story  about  the  charm  against  thunder,  or  in  the 
revels  of  the  Lupercalia.  While  ancient  worship 
was  associated  with  lightness  of  heart  and  gaiety, 


272        THE   WORSHIP   OF   THE   ROMANS 

the  occasions  of  amusement  took  upon  themselves 
a  sacred  character.  Laetitiam  cum  divum  honore 
iungunto,  says  Cicero ;  let  worship  be  combined 
with  rejoicing.  Theatrical  performances  and  horse 
races  were  counted,  along  with  sacrifice  and  prayer, 
as  religious  exercises.  According  to  Macrobius, 
there  were  four  kinds  of  holy  solemnity,  sacrifice, 
sacred  banquets,  public  festivals,  and  games.1 

If  we  compare  Roman  worship  with  that  of  Greece, 
we  find  that  it  is  characterized  by  a  certain  dry 
formalism,  and,  therefore,  loses  somewhat  of  the 
brilliant  gaiety  which  the  Greeks  knew  so  well  how 
to  give  to  their  sacred  functions.  This  formal 
element  of  Roman  worship  may  be  referred  to  the 
national  lack  of  imaginative  power.  The  dry  and 
rigid  Roman  character  was  bound  by  precedent,  and 
adapted  itself  but  slowly  to  its  circumstances.  It 
was  suspicious  of  change,  and,  in  its  adherence  to 
the  letter,  was  incapable  of  apprehending  the  spirit 
even  of  ancient  traditions.  Much  less  could  it  read 
the  meaning  of  the  changing  present.  This  national 
temperament  was  reflected  in  the  dull  formality  of 
the  objects  of  its  worship. 

Further,  the  exercise  of  the  religious  imagination 
was  discouraged.  Any  innovation  in  the  utterances 
and  forms  of  worship  ran  the  risk  of  breaking  the 
spells  laid  by  them.  To  the  thinkers  of  later  times 
this    suggested   a  certain   mystic  attitude  of  mind, 

1  Cic.  Legg.  ii.  22.     Macr.  Sat.  L  16,  4. 


THE   SACRED   DRAMA  273 

than  which,  however,  nothing  could  have  been  more 
alien  to  the  Roman  worshippers  of  early  times. 
Macrobius  was  mistaken,  then,  when  he  explained 
why  it  was  forbidden  to  speak  of  the  beliefs  inspired 
by  worship.  "  It  is  not  permitted,"  he  says,  "  that 
the  secret  explanations  which  flow  from  the  well- 
spring  of  pure  truth  should  be  divulged,  even  in  the 
very  act  of  worship."  Macrobius  speaks  here  rather 
in  the  strain  of  the  later  Greek  theologians.1 

The  head  of  the  Roman  Church  takes  his  title 
from  the  supreme  rank  in  the  hierarchy  of  ancient 
Rome.  The  chief  pontiff,  although  in  precedence  he 
ranked  below  the  Flamen  of  Jupiter  and  the  king  of 
worship,  was,  nevertheless,  their  official  superior. 
We  can  measure  the  gap  which  separates  ancient 
worship  from  modern  faiths  by  the  character  of  the 
pontiff's  office.  It  was  not  his  business  to  inquire 
into  the  beliefs  held  by  his  fellow  citizens,  or  into  the 
attitude  of  mind  which  accompanied  their  acts  of 
worship.  Provided  that  the  prescribed  forms  were 
observed  both  in  word  and  act,  he  had  no  further 
care.  There  was  no  need,  then,  that  the  pontiff  him- 
self should  be  of  any  given  temper  of  mind.  If  he 
carried  out  the  duties  of  his  office,  the  State  did  not 
concern  itself  with  his  private  opinions,  or  even  his 
private  character.  Sometimes  it  happened  that  the 
holder  of  the  sacred  office  was  a  man  of  untarnished 
morals,  who  believed  sincerely  in  the  efficacy  of  his 

1  Macr.  Sat.  i.  7,  18. 
S 


274        THE   WORSHIP   OF  THE   ROMANS 

ceremonial.  Scaevola,  of  whom  Cicero  was  a  disciple, 
was  such  a  man.  He  was  singled  out  by  Cicero, 
among  all  the  men  of  his  time,  for  nobility  of 
character  and  uprightness.  He  must  have  been  like 
the  good  parish  priest  in  the  gay  company  of  the 
Canterbury  pilgrims.  But  when  Caesar  succeeded 
him  in  the  year  of  the  conspiracy  of  Catiline,  the 
chief  pontificate  was  filled  by  one  whose  character, 
great  in  so  many  respects,  was  anything  rather  than 
religious.  Much  has  been  made  of  the  words  which 
Sallust  puts  into  his  mouth,  when  the  debate  was 
held  on  the  great  conspiracy.  "  Death,"  he  said, 
"  puts  an  end  to  all  the  ills  of  mankind.  Afterwards 
there  is  space  neither  for  joy  nor  tears."  It  may  be 
questioned,  however,  whether  Caesar  is  here  at 
variance  with  his  more  religious  contemporaries. 
These  words  of  his  are  echoed  in  the  eternal  rest  and 
slumber,  of  which  the  inscriptions  and  the  poets 
speak.  The  belief  in  immortality  was  not  a  part  of 
the  Roman  religion,  any  more  than  was  a  moral 
temper  of  mind.  Even  Hezekiah  speaks  of  death 
in  accents  like  those  of  Caesar.  "  Nothingness  can- 
not praise  thee,  death  cannot  celebrate  thee ;  they 
that  go  down  into  the  pit,  cannot  hope  for  thy  truth." 
Caesar  is  consistent,  then,  with  himself  and  with  the 
beliefs  of  his  time  when,  in  the  traditional  phrases, 
he  swears  by  the  gods  as  eternal,  imvwrtales,  con- 
trasting them  with  the  mortality  of  man.  His 
Epicureanism  was  thus  no  bar  to  his  becoming  chief 


THE   SACRED   DRAMA  275 

pontiff.  Just  as  little  was  he  hampered  by  his  wild 
and  dissolute  youth.  For  this  had  not  interfered 
with  his  public  career,  and  it  was  there  that  duty 
was  most  binding  upon  a  Roman.  Hence  in  the 
eulogy  of  Sallust,  a  list  of  virtues  is  set  forth  which 
may  have  justified  his  election  in  the  eyes  of  citizens 
generally,  although  to  a  modern  eye  they  seem  to 
lack  that  touch  of  austerity  which  the  sacerdotal 
office  demands.  "  Caesar  was  great,"  the  historian 
declares,  "  by  his  lavish  kindness :  mildness  and  pity 
distinguished  him.  He  was  ready  to  give,  to  help,  to 
pardon  ;  and  his  affability  encouraged  the  unfortun- 
ate to  come  to  him  for  refuge.  He  had  schooled 
himself  to  long  hours  of  toil,  which  he  devoted  to 
the  interests  of  his  friends,  often  to  the  damage  of 
his  own.  Military  command  and  warfare  were 
desired  by  him  as  a  field  in  which  his  characteristic 
excellences  might  be  displayed."  This  partisan 
picture  enables  us  to  comprehend  how  Caesar  may 
have  seemed  an  ideal  chief  pontiff  to  his  con- 
temporaries. This  brilliant  man  of  the  world 
understood  also  what  was  expected  from  a  candidate 
for  the  supreme  office  of  the  Roman  priesthood. 
He  lavished,  during  his  canvass,  such  enormous 
bribes  that,  if  he  failed,  ruin  would  stare  him  in  the 
face.  As  he  went  down  into  the  city  upon  the 
morning  of  his  election,  he  said  to  his  mother  as  she 
kissed  him,  "  I  shall  not  come  again,  unless  I  come 
as  pontiff."     In  this  respect,  too,  history  has  repeated 


276        THE   WORSHIP   OF  THE   ROMANS 

itself."  The  successor  of  Innocent  VIII.  obtained 
the  papal  throne  by  paying  his  price  to  each  member 
of  the  sacred  college.  Cardinal  Sforza  was  gained 
over  by  a  gift  of  silver,  which  required  four  mules  to 
carry  it  into  the  palace  of  his  eminence.1 

The  hilarious  character  of  ancient  worship,  and 
the  formal  temper  of  the  Romans,  led  them  to 
some  strange  consequences.  Bearing  these  in  mind, 
let  us  now  examine,  in  detail,  the  different  offices  of 
ancient  worship,  the  prayers  and  vows,  the  music 
and  dancing,  and  the  sacrifice. 

"I  remember,"  says  Mr.  W.  G.  Clark,  "to  have 
read  a  lecture  of  Dr.  Newman's,  in  which  he  main- 
tained the  thesis  that  the  profane  and  blasphemous 
oaths  habitually  used  by  the  people  of  Italy,  proved 
that  the  objects  of  their  devotion  were  always  present 
to  their  minds,  in  whatever  aspect,  and  that  the  state 
of  mind  of  an  Italian  was  far  preferable  to  the  apathy 
and  indifference  of  the  lower  orders  in  England.  To 
this  one  might  reply,  on  behalf  of  our  countrymen, 
that  their  favourite  expletive,  by  the  same  reason, 
proves  the  thought  of  eternal  salvation  to  be  always 
present  to  their  minds."  If  this  be  the  test  of 
devotion,  it  is  worth  while  to  enquire  why  the  priest 
of  Jupiter,  like  St.  Eligius,  was  not  allowed  to  take 
an  oath.  A  similar  taboo  was  laid  upon  a  priestess 
of  Athena,  at  Athens.2 

1  Sallust,    Catil.    51.       Isaiah,    xxxviii.    18.       Suet.   Julius,    13. 
D'Aubigne,  Hist.  Re/,  i.  c.  3. 

Naples  and  Garibaldi^  311.     Plut.  R.  Q.  44. 


THE  SACRED   DRAMA  277 

There  is  a  familiar  proverb,  "Talk  of  the  devil, 
and  he  will  appear."  This  carries  us  back  to  a  super- 
stition, that  the  presence  of  a  spirit  could  be  ensured 
by  naming  it.  The  list  of  names  possessed  by  the 
pontiffs  in  their  indigitamenta  was  thus  a  most 
efficacious  magical  instrument,  laying  at  their  mercy 
all  the  forces  of  the  spirit  world.  There  was  a  special 
reason  against  invoking  lightly  the  name  of  Jupiter. 
The  appearance  of  the  god,  the  thunderer,  was  so 
terrible  that  he  must  be  invoked  only  in  the  ways 
approved  by  him.  According  to  the  old  story,  when 
Jove  appeared,  King  Numa  fell  down  as  if  dead. 
It  was  wrong  for  a  man  even  to  know  the  arts 
whereby  the  god  could  be  drawn  down  to  earth.1 

Not  only  can  the  presence  of  a  god  be  ensured 
by  the  use  of  certain  words  ;  material  things  can  also 
be  gained.  When  a  Zulu  sneezes,  and  is  thus  for 
the  moment  in  close  relation  with  a  spirit,  it  is 
enough  for  him  to  mention  what  he  wants,  and  thus 
the  words,  "a  cow,"  "children,"  are  prayers.  This 
is  like  the  modern  superstition  about  wishing  at  the 
first  sight  of  the  new  moon.  The  wishes  are  really 
prayers.  So,  too,  when  the  Italian  peasant  danced 
round  the  altar  of  Ceres,  his  cry  of  "  Ceres,"  or  "  corn, 
was  as  much  a  prayer  as  the  shouts,  "  Give  us  a  good 
vintage,"  "  Give  us  a  good  harvest."  The  magical 
virtues  attributed  to  prayer  gave  rise  to  the  rule  that 
all  supplications  should  be  made  with  a  loud  voice. 

1  Ovid,  Fasti,  iii.  325. 


278        THE   WORSHIP   OF   THE   ROMANS 

"  So  speak  to  God,"  says  Seneca,  "  as  though  all  men 
heard  your  prayers."  The  chasm  that  parts  ancient 
from  modern  ideas  is  nowhere  more  broad  than  in 
the  use  of  prayer  as  a  means  to  satisfying  the  worst 
desires.  "  How  many  are  the  prayers  which  a  man 
is  ashamed  to  confess  to  himself;  how  few  which 
we  can  make  in  the  presence  of  a  listener.  The 
wicked  man  propitiates  heaven  by  the  gift  of  a  boar 
or  an  ox.  Aloud  he  says,  '  Father  Janus/  or  'Apollo.' 
But  he  whispers,  '  Grant,  O  fair  Laverna '  (a  goddess 
who  superintended  roguery)  '  that  I  may  take  men 
in,  and  may  seem  just  and  holy.  Spread  night  over 
my  sins,  and  cast  a  cloud  over  my  deceit.'"1 

Sometimes  the  utterance  of  a  wish  had  the  magical 
power  necessary  to  ensure  its  fulfilment.  At  other 
times  the  prayer  was  accompanied  by  offerings,  as 
though,  by  itself,  it  had  insufficient  spiritual  momen- 
tum to  reach  its  goal.  In  so  far  as  sacrifice  was  a 
means  of  ensuring  the  presence  and  countenance  of 
a  deity,  it  was  adopted  naturally  when  prayer  was 
to  be  made.  If  the  frugal  country  housewife  cannot 
afford  to  give  a  costly  victim,  she  must  appease,  with 
crackling  salt  and  sacred  meal,  the  Penates  who  have 
turned  away  their  faces.  Only  when  Aeneas  has 
sacrificed  seven  oxen  and  seven  sheep,  does  he  make 
his  supplication  to  Phoebus.  As  in  offering  a  victim, 
so   in    praying,   which    is    only   a   special    mode   of 

1  Tylor,  Prim.  Cult.  ii.  367.  Virg.  Georg.  i.  347.  Sen.  Ep.  10. 
Hor.  Ep,  i.  16,  58. 


THE  SACRED   DRAMA  279 

sacrifice,  a  gift  accompanied  by  words,  the  worshipper 
stands  with  his  head  veiled.1 

Since  prayer  could  be  made  best  at  the  appointed 
shrine  of  a  deity — where  his  presence  had  already 
been  manifested — his  temple  was  opened  as  a  favour 
and  a  boon  to  the  worshippers.  On  entering  the  temple, 
the  Roman  kissed  his  hand  to  the  image,  turned 
completely  round,  and  prostrated  himself.  He  then 
touched  the  altar,  and  threw  a  few  grains  of  incense 
upon  the  flames.  If  his  prayer  was  to  the  gods 
above,  he  raised  his  hands  with  the  palms  upwards ; 
if  to  the  gods  below,  he  turned  them  downwards. 
When  prayer  was  made  to  the  Earth,  the  worshipper 
touched  the  ground.  After  the  great  victory  which 
brought  the  second  Punic  war  to  a  close,  the  city 
praetor  ordained  that  the  sacristans  should  throw 
open  all  the  sanctuaries  throughout  the  city,  in  order 
that,  for  a  whole  day,  the  people  might  have  an 
opportunity  of  visiting  and  blessing  the  gods  and 
rendering  thanks.2 

A  certain  sanctity  seems  to  attach  to  the  knees. 
The  Jews  regarded  them  as  the  special  seat  of  a 
man's  strength.  The  feet  and  knees  of  the  gods 
were  touched  and  handled  in  prayer,  "  perhaps,"  says 
Pliny,  "  because  they  are  the  seat  of  life."  The 
suppliant,  in  like  manner,  knelt  and  embraced  the 

1  Hor.  Carm.  iii.  23,  17.     Virg.  A  en.  vi.  56. 

3  Lucr.  v.  1 198.  The  worshipper  turned  dextrorsum  )(  withershins. 
Suet.  Vit.  2.    Macr.  Sat.  iii.  9,  1.    Virg.  Aen.  iv.  205).    Liv.  xxx.  17. 


280        THE   WORSHIP   OF  THE  ROMANS 

knees  of  the  man  to  whom  he  made  his  request. 
The  kneeling  attitude  of  the  worshipper  brought 
him  in  contact  with  the  earth  of  the  holy  place.  It 
is  a  kind  of  prostration,  and  probably  took  its  rise  in 
the  worship  of  Earth,  and  was  then  extended  to  other 
worships.  The  story  of  Antaeus  gives  us  a  useful 
hint ;  the  prostrate  devotee  renews  his  strength  by 
contact  with  the  ground.  After  his  fourfold  triumph, 
Julius  Caesar  ascended  on  his  knees  the  steps  of  the 
Capitol.  So  the  sacred  stairs  near  St.  John  Lateran 
are  still  ascended.  The  Mahometan,  during  his 
prayers,  drops  upon  his  knees,  places  his  hands  upon 
the  ground  a  little  before  his  knees,  and  puts  his  nose 
and  forehead  also  to  the  ground,  the  former  first 
between  his  two  hands.  In  time  of  pestilence  the 
Roman  matrons  threw  themselves  on  the  temple 
pavements,  and  swept  them  with  their  loosened 
hair.  This  act  is  capable  of  being  interpreted  like 
kneeling.1 

The  vow  was  a  peculiar  kind  of  prayer.  The 
worshipper  promised  certain  offerings,  provided  that 
the  prayers,  which  accompanied  the  promise,  were 
realised.  In  this  way  he  ensured  that  his  gifts 
should  not  fail  of  their  effect.  In  no  respect  is  the 
business-like  temper  of  Roman  worship  more  obvious 
than  here.  The  conditions  of  the  vow  were  recorded 
upon  wax  tablets,  and  sealed  as  a  kind  of  contract. 
If  the  god  failed  to  perform  his  part,  the  worshipper 

1  Plin.  N.  H  xi.  250.   Arnob.  vi.  16.    Dio  Cass,  xliii.  21.    Liv.  iii.  7. 


THE  SACRED   DRAMA  281 

was  free  from  his  vow.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
worshipper  was  bound  to  carry  out  his  promises,  if 
his  prayers  were  answered.  The  tablets  were  hung 
upon  the  knees  of  the  god,  so  that  he  might  be 
reminded  of  them  continually.  Vows  were  made 
conditional  upon  recovery  from  disease,  upon  safe 
return  from  a  journey,  upon  victory  over  an  enemy, 
and  many  other  occasions.  A  servant  of  the  pontiffs 
had  suffered  from  weak  eyes,  and  had  been  given  up 
by  the  physicians.  But  he  vowed  a  white  heifer  to 
the  Good  Goddess,  and  he  records  with  delight  that 
he  was  cured  by  her,  and  fulfilled  his  vow.  Often 
the  cure  was  acknowledged  by  the  gift  of  a  gold,  or 
silver,  or  earthen  representation  of  the  part  healed. 
The  Romans  suffered  severely  from  weak  eyes,  and 
from  gout ;  hence  the  eyes,  the  hands,  and  the  feet, 
that  were  hung  in  grateful  acknowledgment  upon  the 
temple  walls  at  Nemi.  In  one  example,  there  is  a 
clay  figure  with  the  abdomen  cut  open  to  display  the 
viscera.  Every  year  the  Brethren  of  the  Field  ful- 
filled the  vows  made  the  previous  year  for  the 
emperor's  safety,  and  formed  new  ones  that  he 
might  be  kept  alive  and  victorious  for  another  year. 
Pliny  writes  to  Trajan  that  he  prays  the  gods  to 
permit  him,  along  with  the  whole  state,  to  fulfil  the 
old  vow,  and  perform  the  new  one.  Horace  sets 
aside  a  heifer  to  be  sacrificed  in  the  event  of  his 
friend's  return.1 

1   Wilm.   Inss.  71.     Classical  Coll.  Castle  Museum,   Nottingham, 
No.  131.     Hor.  Ep.  i.  3,  36. 


282        THE   WORSHIP   OF   THE   ROMANS 

The  gifts  of  like  for  like,  in  cases  of  disease,  sug- 
gest that  the  life  of  the  animal  was  vowed  as  an 
equivalent  of  the  life  of  the  man  who  went  into  a 
foreign  country.  The  returning  Roman  was  thought 
to  be  like  one  snatched  from  the  gods  of  the  strange 
land.  Hence  the  man  who  saved  a  citizen's  life  in 
battle,  was  guarded,  by  a  magical  wreath,  from  the 
wrath  of  the  spirits  whom  he  had  despoiled  of  the 
life  due  to  them.  When  the  Roman  returned  home, 
he  sent  word  to  his  wife,  in  order  that  she  might  take 
the  proper  precautions.  What  these  may  have  been 
is  uncertain.  If  we  may  judge  by  parallels  in  folk- 
lore, the  first  life  on  which  he  set  eyes  was  devoted 
instead  of  the  wanderer  himself;  hence  his  wife 
would  avoid  being  the  first  to  meet  him.  In  the 
story  of  Nicht  Nought  Nothing,  the  king  has  to  cross 
a  great  river  on  his  return,  and  the  giant  who  carries 
him  stipulates  that  he  shall  have  the  king's  son  as 
payment.  The  wise  woman  made  Childe  Lambton 
swear  that  he  would  put  to  death  the  first  thing  that 
met  him  as  he  crossed  the  threshold  of  Lambton 
Hall,  if  he  were  fortunate  enough  to  kill  the  worm. 
So  Jethro  vowed  that  he  would  sacrifice,  by  fire, 
whosoever  came  out  of  his  house  to  meet  him,  and 
although  his  only  daughter  came,  he  fulfilled  his  vow. 
A  more  primitive  idea  than  that  of  substitution  may 
have  lain  at  the  foundation  of  this  usage.  The  blood 
shed  on  the  return  retied  the  communal  bond.1 

1  Jacobs,  More  English  Fairy  Tales,  201.     Lang,  Custom  and  Myth, 
1  A  Far-travelled  Tale."    Judges,  xi.  31. 


THE   SACRED    DRAMA  283 

Let  us  pass  now  from  the  prayers  of  the  Roman, 
to  the  music  and  dancing  which  also  formed  an 
integral  part  of  his  worship.  The  origin  of  music 
seems  to  have  been  in  the  loud  noises  by  which  evil 
spirits  were  driven  away.  This  would  be  fitly  done 
at  the  commencement  of  the  year's  work.  On 
Plough  Monday,  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Notting- 
ham, bands  of  men,  "  plough  bullocks,"  as  they  are 
called,  are  led  by  a  "  Bessy" — a  man  bedizened  as 
an  old  woman — and  there  is  much  blowing  of  horns 
by  his  companions.  The  use  of  the  disguise  looks 
like  an  attempt  to  deceive  the  evil  spirits.  So  at 
Rome,  the  fluteplayers  used  to  go  round  the  city 
on  January  13,  dressed  in  women's  clothes.  The 
music,  therefore,  which  accompanied  sacrifice,  has 
apparently  a  magical  efficacy.1 

It  was  the  same  with  dancing.  In  the  villages  of 
Devonshire,  on  the  eve  of  Twelfth-day,  the  farmer 
takes  a  pitcher  of  cider,  and  goes  to  the  orchard, 
attended  by  his  workmen.  They  encircle  a  tree,  and 
drink  a  toast  three  times.  They  believe  that  if  they 
neglect  this  custom,  the  trees  will  bear  no  apples 
during  the  year.  A  like  magic  must  be  employed  to 
produce  the  Easter  fire  at  Jerusalem.  "  It  seems  to 
be  the  belief  of  the  Arab  Greeks  that  unless  they 
run  round  the  sepulchre  a  certain  number  of  times 
the  fire  will  not  come."  English  children,  as  they 
dance  in  a  ring,  singing  "  Here  we  go  round  the 
1  Plut.  R.  Q.  55. 


284        THE   WORSHIP  OF  THE   ROMANS 

mulberry  bush,"  are  enacting  a  religious  rite,  which 
is  still  thought  by  many  people  to  have  much 
efficacy.  So  at  Rome  the  dancers,  salii,  danced  in  a 
solemn  triple  measure  round  the  altars.  Now  they 
moved  together,  now  in  turn,  singing  the  ancient 
Hymn  of  the  Dancers.  They  were  of  two  colleges, 
one  of  the  Palatine,  the  other  of  the  Quirinal.  They 
numbered  twelve  in  each  college,  and  were  chosen  by 
co-optation  from  the  noblest  families  in  Rome.  They 
had  a  master,  a  premier  danseur  or  praesul,  and  a 
choirmaster,  vates.  Appius  Claudius,  a  man  who 
had  enjoyed  the  honours  of  a  triumph,  was  a 
member  of  the  College  of  Dancers,  and  prided 
himself  on  being  a  better  performer  than  his 
colleagues.  Throughout  the  sacred  month  of  Mars, 
they  took  part  in  the  festivals ;  moved  through  the 
city  in  solemn  step  with  singing,  or  danced  round  the 
altars  of  the  gods.  The  ancient  shrine  of  Mars  in 
the  Regia  was  open,  and  they  took  down  from  the 
walls  the  sacred  shields,  which,  in  the  silence  of  the 
night,  clashed  together  mysteriously.  The  sacrifices 
in  which  they  took  part  were  followed  by  banquets, 
the  luxury  of  which,  as  of  the  feasts  provided  by 
St.  Julian  for  his  votaries,  passed  into  a  proverb.1 

One  of  the  most  important  Roman  rites — the 
sacrifice  of  the  October  Horse — followed  immediately 
upon  chariot  races  in  the  Field  of  Mars.     The  right 

1  Book  of  Days,  i.  86.  Life  of  Dean  Stanley,  i.  458.  Dion.  H. 
Antiq.  Rom.  ii.  70.     Dio  C.  xliv.  17.     Macr.  Sat.  Hi.  14,  14. 


THE   SACRED   DRAMA  285 

hand  horse  of  the  victorious  team  was  sacrificed  to 
Mars.  At  the  same  time  the  tail  of  the  animal  was 
cut  off,  and  carried,  still  dripping  with  blood,  to  the 
altar  of  the  Regia.  The  head  of  the  horse  was 
fought  for  by  the  inhabitants  of  the  Via  Sacra  and  of 
the  Suburra.  If  the  men  of  the  Via  Sacra  were  the 
conquerors,  they  fixed  the  head  upon  the  king's 
palace  on  the  Palatine  hill ;  while  if  the  victory  fell 
to  the  men  of  the  Suburra,  the  head  was  fixed  upon 
the  Mamilian  tower.  The  purpose  of  the  sacrifice 
was  said  to  be  for  the  success  of  the  harvest,  ob 
frugum  eventum.  Like  the  horse  brought  out  on 
midsummer  night  in  King's  County,  it  seems  also  to 
have  represented  all  cattle.  Its  blood  was  kept  in 
the  temple  of  Vesta  until  the  succeeding  spring.  It 
was  then  mixed  with  some  beanstalks,  and  with  the 
blood  of  the  calf  sacrificed  to  Mother  Earth,  for  use 
in  the  spring  purifications  of  the  Parilia.  In  some 
parts  of  Germany,  St.  Stephen's  day  is  called  "the 
great  horse  day."  The  horses  are  raced  round  the 
fields  until  they  sweat  abundantly.  They  are  taken 
then  to  the  blacksmith,  who  bleeds  them  that  they 
may  remain  sound  throughout  the  year.  Their 
blood  is  kept  as  a  cure  for  various  ailments.  Both 
the  Roman  and  the  German  festival  are  characterized 
by  the  magical  meaning  which  belongs  to  primitive 
ritual.  At  a  later  stage  of  development  the  races 
are  thought  to  be  held  in  honour  of  some  god.1 
1  Preller,y?.^/.I3.366,4i6.  Plut.  R.  Q.  97.    Mannhardt,/*./^  ff;}.^. 


286        THE   WORSHIP   OF   THE   ROMANS 

A  sacred  character  attached  also  to  the  games  that 
were  held  in  the  hollow  between  the  Palatine  and 
Aventine  Hills.  At  first  the  great  circus  was  only 
"  a  field  where  they  play,"  adjoining  the  altar  of 
Consus,  a  god  of  farming.  The  altar  lay  at  the 
south-east  corner  of  the  Palatine  Hill,  and  was  buried 
in  the  earth.  Judging  from  analogies,  it  seems  to 
have  been  one  of  those  fetish  stones  of  which  traces 
are  not  infrequent  in  Roman  religion.  It  was 
brought  out  only  on  the  twenty-first  of  August. 
The  festival  of  Consus  was  celebrated  again  on  the 
fifteenth  of  December.  The  first  celebration  came 
when  the  harvest  was  over — the  latter,  when  all  the 
corn,  fruit,  and  wine  of  the  year  were  stored  away. 
At  these  feasts  the  horses  and  asses  enjoyed  a  respite 
from  their  work,  and  were  wreathed  with  garlands. 
All  the  citizens  resorted  to  the  August  festival. 
Each  of  the  thirty  wards  or  curiae  had  its  appointed 
ground,  and  the  custom  arose  of  erecting  stands  of 
wood  from  which  to  view  the  show.  The  sacred 
character  was  not  lost  until  a  late  date.  "  Of  old," 
sings  Ovid,  "  the  country  folk  came  into  the  city  to 
the  games ;  but  that  service  was  done  to  the  gods, 
and  not  for  pleasure's  sake."1 

There   was   an   ancient   legend    that    the    Sabine 

women    were    carried    off  at    this    festival.       This 

suggests   that   part   of  the   ceremonial  consisted  in 

foot   races,  in    which    some   detail  gave  rise  to  the 

1  Liv.  i.  35.     Plut.  R.  Q.  48.     Ovid,  Fasti,  iii.  783. 


THE   SACRED   DRAMA  287 

story.     This  may,  indeed,  have  been  the  first  stage ; 
for  foot  races  often  pass  into  horse  races.2 

Let  us  now  pass  to  the  games,  as  they  were  carried 
out  in  historical  times.  We  have  seen  that  place 
is  made  for  the  thirty  curiae,  in  order  that  all  Rome 
may  be  there  to  witness.  Much  more  must  place 
be  made  for  the  gods  of  Rome.  The  images  were 
brought  in  all  their  solemn  attire  down  from  the 
Capitol,  on  cars  of  ivory  and  silver.  By  their  side 
walked  the  companies  of  the  priests  and  the  sacred 
colleges.  The  most  prominent  figure,  however,  was 
the  chief  magistrate,  who  led  the  way,  standing  on 
a  high  chariot  drawn  by  white  horses.  He  was 
attired  in  the  tunic  of  Jove,  and  wore  from  his 
shoulders  a  toga  of  Tyrian  purple,  embroidered  with 
palm  leaves  of  gold.  A  laurel  wreath  was  on  his 
head,  and  a  slave,  standing  in  the  same  chariot,  held 
above  him  a  crown  of  oak  leaves,  made  of  jewels 
and  gold.  An  ivory  sceptre  was  in  his  hand,  sur- 
mounted by  an  eagle.  These  insignia  were  brought 
from  their  resting-place  in  the  temple  of  Jove,  to 
whom  they  were  sacred.  For  the  magistrate  was  to 
be  the  earthly  embodiment  of  the  god  presiding  at 
the  festival  of  his  people.  The  friends  and  clients  of 
the  presiding  magistrate  took  their  places  on  either 
side  of  his  chariot,  and  with  him  led  the  way  from 
the  hill  along  the  forum,  the  vicus  Tuscus,  and  the 
cattle  market,  and  swept  through  the  centre  gate 
1  Mannhardt,  A.  F.  IV.  i.  383. 


288        THE   WORSHIP   OF  THE   ROMANS 

of  the  circus  into  the  vast  open  space,  to  the  music 
of  horn-blowers,  harpers,  and  pipers.  As  they  made 
a  circuit  of  the  arena,  the  people  arose  and  clapped 
their  hands ;  invoking  the  gods,  who  were  taken 
from  their  cars,  and  put  on  the  sacred  couch  in  order 
to  view  the  sports.  But  the  absorbing  interest  of 
the  races  that  followed  made  the  spectators  impatient 
with  this  preliminary  ceremonial.  It  was  this  cir- 
cumstance, doubtless,  that  led  Ovid  to  contrast  the 
pious  temper  of  antiquity  with  the  impatience  that 
resented  any  obstacle  to  its  satisfaction.1 

It  is  clear,  then,  that  ancient  ritual  was  very 
complex,  and  that  sacrifice  included  much  more  than 
the  slaughter  of  a  living  creature.  We  are  prepared 
now  to  pass  to  this  important  part  of  the  whole 
function,  without  overlooking  the  contributions  made 
to  it  by  word  or  gesture ;  the  prayers,  music,  and 
dancing. 

The  natural  development  of  Roman  ideas  of  sacri- 
fice, in  the  special  sense  of  offering  a  victim,  was 
interrupted  by  the  introduction  of  Etruscan  and 
Greek  usages.  Only  here  and  there  can  we  light 
upon  what  is  original.  Elaborate  ordinances,  indeed, 
were  laid  down  by  the  pontiffs  and  haruspices,  in 
which  the  kinds  of  victims  to  be  sacrificed  to  the 
several  deities  were  recounted  ;  whether  they  were 
to  be  young  or  full  grown,  male  or  female.  According 
to  these  rules,  again,  oxen  were  to  be  offered  to  Jove 

1  Mayor's  n.  on  Juv.  x.  36  ff. 


THE  SACRED   DRAMA  289 

Neptune,  Mars,  or  Apollo ;  swine  to  Juno,  Ceres, 
Bona  Dea,  Silvanus.  It  is  seldom,  however,  that 
we  can  find  a  genuine  Roman  ceremony.1 

A  few  rites  have  the  character  of  being  original, 
and  furnish  clues  to  primitive  ideas  of  sacrifice.  On 
the  fifteenth  of  April  a  cow  in  calf  was  offered  by 
the  pontiffs,  at  the  temple  on  the  Capitoline  Hill ; 
and  like  offerings  were  made  at  the  thirty  curiae. 
This  mode  of  sacrifice  seems  to  have  come  down 
from  a  remote  antiquity.  Similar  sacrifices  were 
made  by  the  Greeks  to  the  Eumenides.  At  Rome, 
the  unborn  young  were  taken  and  burnt  by  the 
senior  vestal,  and  the  ashes  were  kept  for  use  at 
the  city  festival  of  Pales.2 

Two  things  are  obvious  in  these  rites  of  the 
fordicidia ;  namely,  that  the  burning  of  the  victim 
is  a  kind  of  fire  charm,  and  that  the  ashes  have  a 
magical  efficacy.  We  must  take  account  here  of 
the  sacredness  of  fire.  The  burning  of  the  victim 
brings  it  under  a  magical  influence.  For  it  is  hardly 
possible  to  regard  the  act  of  burning  merely  as  a 
means  of  disposing  of  the  flesh,  so  that  it  may  not 
be  exposed  to  casual  contact.  This  is  emphasised 
further  by  the  participation  of  the  fire-maidens  in 
the  rite.  This  aspect  of  burnt  offerings  is  prominent 
in  some  customs,  where  the  sacrifice  consists  in 
burning,  and  nothing  more.  On  midsummer  night 
the   Parisians  used   to  put   cages  or  sacks  of  cats, 

1  Cic.  Div.  ii.  29.  2  Pausan,  II.  ii.  4. 

T 


2Qo        THE  WORSHIP   OF  THE   ROMANS 

as  many  as  two  dozen  at  a  time,  and  sometimes 
foxes,  over  the  flames ;  and  the  bystanders  thought 
it  of  good  omen  when  the  cries  of  the  dying  animals 
were  piercing.  They  were  hung,  in  a  basket,  on  a 
mast  raised  near  the  Hotel  de  Ville,  in  the  Place 
de  Greve.  In  Metz  there  used  to  be  a  bonfire  on 
the  Esplanade,  in  which  six  cats  were  burnt  along 
with  the  fuel.  So  at  Rome,  on  the  last  day  of  the 
games  held  in  honour  of  Ceres,  there  was  a  fox  hunt 
in  the  circus,  torches  being  tied  to  the  animals'  tails. 
From  the  sacred  character  of  fire  two  results  seem 
to  follow.  On  the  one  hand,  the  victim  is  devoured 
by  the  fire,  and  thus  sustains  the  magical  element. 
Although  few  traces  remain  of  this  belief,  there  is 
little  doubt  that  the  fire  was  viewed  as  a  spirit  that 
could  be  so  nourished.  Vesta,  says  Ovid,  is  the  living 
flame.  On  the  other  hand,  the  victim  at  the  fordicidia 
is  cleansed,  and  its  substance  receives  power  by  the 
fire,  so  that  the  ashes  convey  its  virtues,  purified  and 
undiminished,  to  the  flame  through  which  the  citizens 
leap  at  the  feast  of  Pales.  Roman  sacrifice  is  thus 
a  magical  rite,  not  only  through  the  words  and 
gestures  employed,  but  also  as  regards  the  victim 
slain.  We  find  this  in  the  ceremony  of  the  October 
horse.  The  use  of  its  blood  in  the  lustral  bonfire, 
and  of  its  tail  as  an  aspergill,  communicated  its 
properties,  through  contact,  to  the  citizens  who  were 
present  at  the  ceremony  of  lustration.  The  same 
efficacy  attached   to  the  bodies  of  sacred  persons. 


THE  SACRED   DRAMA  291 

The  dust  of  ancestors  made  the  home  round  which, 
in  early  times,  they  were  buried,  sacred  indeed.  Still 
more  must  this  have  been  the  case  with  the  human 
victims  slaughtered  for  the  welfare  of  the  community. 
For  the  power  of  such  rites  was  intrinsic  at  first,  and 
did  not  depend,  in  the  primitive  idea,  upon  the  will 
of  the  deity  to  whom  they  were  celebrated.  The 
Hindus  believe,  indeed,  that  sacrifice  can  be  used 
as  a  means  to  extort  from  the  gods  whatever  is 
desired.  So  the  Romans  believed  that  Jupiter  could 
be  drawn  down  from  heaven,  not  of  his  own  will, 
but  in  conformity  with  the  wishes  of  his  worshipper. 
The  power  of  ritual  stands  over  against  the  power 
of  the  god,  and  is  not  derived  from  it.1 

How  is  it  that  the  flesh  of  the  victim  is  credited 
with  these  marvellous  powers  ?  The  answer  to  this 
question,  as  to  nearly  every  other  relating  to  folklore, 
is  a  complex  one.  A  striking  coincidence,  or  some 
touch  of  that  awe  of  Nature  which  culminates  in 
Nature-worship,  may  attract  attention  to  any  part  of 
the  living  world,  and  when  any  creature  has  been 
thus  marked  out,  the  religious  imagination  explains 
the  fact  now  in  one  way,  now  in  another.  Let  us 
suppose,  then,  that  a  tribe  of  men  unite  in  ascribing 
a  sacred  character  to  some  animal.  They  may  have 
reached  this  point  along  any  of  the  paths  of 
primitive  reasoning.     When  they  begin  to  reflect,  in 

1  Mannhardt,  A.  F.  W.  i.  515.    Ovid,  Fasti,  vi.  291.    M.  Williams, 
Hinduism,  40. 


292       THE  WORSHIP  OF  THE  ROMANS 

the  pictorial  manner  of  savages,  they  will  very 
naturally  explain  the  protection  afforded  to  them  by 
the  victim,  or  the  powers  exercised  by  it,  through 
a  relation  between  the  sacred  being  and  the  tribe. 
It  is  their  kinsman,  their  father,  mother,  or  brother. 
This  process  of  savage  thought  is  almost  universal 
in  its  prevalence.  Without  expecting  that  it  will 
take  precisely  the  same  form  everywhere,  we  may 
interpret  the  sanctity  of  the  victim  as  involving  a 
kind  of  kinship  to  the  tribe.  Here,  once  more,  we 
find  a  logical  consequence  of  that  primitive  idea  of 
holiness,  which  makes  it  to  depend  upon  the  com- 
munal interests.  Nor  does  it  seem  necessary  to 
treat  this  sanctity  of  an  animal  as  bound  up  with  a 
particular  etiquette  of  marriage.  The  belief  in  the 
kinship  of  the  sacred  animal  may  coexist  with 
diverse  marriage  customs. 

Beliefs  of  this  kind  must  differ  in  the  case  of  wild 
animals,  on  the  one  hand,  and  domesticated  cattle  on 
the  other.  The  feeling  of  relationship  must  have 
taken  a  special  form  in  so  far  as  the  milk  of  cows 
and  goats  was  used  for  food.  The  Italians  viewed 
with  reverence  both  kinds  of  creature.  In  this  they 
differed  from  the  Jews,  whose  sacrifices  were  confined 
to  domestic  animals,  and  who  regarded  other  sacri- 
fices as  unclean. 

There  are  some  interesting  evidences  which  go  to 
prove  that  the  Italians  considered  themselves  to  have 
a  certain  kinship  with  their  sacred  animals. 


THE  SACRED   DRAMA  293 

Plutarch  wants  to  know  why  a  wisp  of  hay  used 
to  be  tied  to  the  horns  of  savage  cattle.  This  is, 
perhaps,  a  survival  from  the  time  when  all  cattle 
were  sacred  to  the  god  Mars.  The  wisp  of  hay  was 
the  token  of  this,  just  as  it  showed  that  the  soldiers 
who  marched  under  the  manipular  standard  were  the 
men  of  Mars.  There  was  an  old  legend  to  the  effect 
that  the  Sabines,  once  upon  a  time,  were  hard 
pressed  by  the  Umbrians,  and  that  they  vowed  a 
holy  spring,  that  is  to  send  beyond  their  borders,  the 
sons  and  daughters  who  were  born  in  the  year  of 
war.  One  band,  led  by  the  ox  of  Mars,  came  down 
into  the  centre  of  Italy.  A  like  account  is  given  of 
the  Picentes  or  woodpecker  people,  who  were  led  by 
the  sacred  bird  into  the  marches  of  Ancona,  and  the 
Hirpini,  or  wolves,  who  were  led  into  the  region  of 
Beneventum.  The  wolf  festival  at  Rome,  and  the 
wolfish  gestures  of  those  who  took  part  in  it,  show 
that  the  Romans  believed  in  some  special  bond 
which  united  the  life  of  the  animal  and  that  of  the 
citizens.  This  feeling  found  voice,  too,  in  the  old 
story  of  the  suckling  of  Romulus  and  Remus. 
During  the  Social  War,  the  Samnites  issued  a 
denarius,  the  obverse  of  which  was  stamped  with  a 
bull  trampling  upon  a  wolf.  This  is  manifestly  an 
allegory  of  the  conflict  between  Samnium  and  Rome. 
According  to  Pliny,  the  Roman  armies  used  to  have 
for  standards  not  wolves  only,  but  eagles,  man-bulls, 
horses,  and  boars.     Light  is  shed  upon  the  slaughter 


294       THE  WORSHIP  OF  THE  ROMANS 

of  the  October  horse,  when  it  appears  that  the  horse 
figured  as  an  ancient  ensign.  The  sacred  boar  is 
doubtless  represented  in  sacrifice  by  the  offering  of 
swine,  and  by  the  name  of  the  second  month  in  the 
year,  Aprilis  or  Boar  month.  The  belief  in  sacred 
animals  akin  to  man,  prepares  the  way  for  the  idea 
of  transmigration  as  found  in  India,  or  of  meta- 
morphosis as  in  Greece ;  at  Rome  the  superstition 
that  witches  passed  into  wolves  may  have  originated 
in  ancient  rites  like  those  of  Soracte.1 

Why  should  the  sacred  animal  be  killed?  The 
answer  has  already  been  given  in  the  case  of  burnt 
offerings.  The  life  taken  is  communicated  to  the 
sacred  flame.  When  the  victim  is  eaten,  instead  of 
being  burnt,  the  morsels  of  the  magical  body  act  as 
talismans  for  those  who  join  in  the  festival.  Here  the 
act  of  killing  is,  so  to  speak,  incidental  to  the  use  of 
the  victim  for  a  religious  purpose.  When,  however,  the 
primitive  view  of  sacrifice  as  a  magical  rite  is  taken 
up  into  the  outlook  of  a  more  developed  imagination, 
the  meaning  of  the  whole  function  is  found  in  the 
taking  of  life.  Trebatius,  indeed,  marks  this  off  as 
one  of  two  main  kinds  of  sacrifice :  "  There  is  one," 
he  says,  "in  which  the  will  of  the  gods  is  enquired 
through  inspection  of  the  entrails,  the  other  is  that 
in  which  the  life  only  is  devoted  to  the  deity."  We 
do  not  find,  however,  that  either  of  these  explana- 

1  Plut.  R.  Q.  71.  Mommsen,  R.  H.  i.  123.  Baumeister,  Denkm, 
1 1 78.     Pliny,  N.H.  x.  16. 


THE  SACRED   DRAMA  295 

tions  is  fitted  to  account  for  the  rites  we  have  just 
been  considering.1 

At  the  same  time,  Trebatius'  second  division 
points  us  to  the  idea  which  underlay  the  later  form 
of  sacrifice  as  a  common  meal.  The  life  of  the 
community  was  renewed  in  the  life  of  the  victim. 
Here,  also,  we  are  able  to  study  a  custom  in  a 
genuine  Italian  festival.  The  great  celebration  on 
the  Alban  Mount  which  the  consuls  used  to  hold, 
before  setting  out  for  their  province,  was  dependent 
for  its  efficacy  upon  the  participation  of  all  the 
townships  that  united  in  it.  It  was  necessary  that 
some  one  should  come  from  each  city  to  share  in  the 
flesh  of  the  victims.  In  like  manner,  open  house 
was  kept  at  Rome  by  all  the  wealthier  classes  during 
the  great  thanksgiving  feasts.  Th~  success  of  the 
ritual  was  dependent,  in  some  measure,  upon  the 
number  of  those  who  shared  in  it.  "  The  law  of  the 
feast  was  open-handed  hospitality :  the  sacrifice  was 
not  complete  without  guests."  When  Ezra  read  the 
book  of  the  law,  after  the  return  from  captivity, 
there  was  a  public  feast,  to  which  all  had  access,  and 
portions  were  sent  to  those  who,  otherwise,  would 
have  remained  without  a  share  in  the  festival.  The 
rule  that  all  must  partake  may  have  gained  force 
from  the  religious  formalism  of  the  Roman.  If  an 
accustomed  place  was  vacant,  there  was  a  danger 
lest  the  change,  slight  in    itself,  should  vitiate  the 

1  Macr.  Sat.  Hi.  5,  1. 


296       THE  WORSHIP  OF  THE  ROMANS 

whole  proceedings.  When  the  god  came  to  be 
distinguished  from  the  victim,  he  used  to  be  present 
at  the  common  meal  of  his  people ;  and  so  all  the 
community  was  gathered  together.1 

We  find,  then,  side  by  side,  rites  such  as  those  of 
the  October  Horse,  in  which  the  reference  to  the  spirit 
worshipped  is  very  obscure,  and  other  rites — such  as 
most  ceremonial  sacrifices — in  which  the  reference  in 
question  is  quite  clear.  The  distinction  between  the 
two  is  found  also  when  we  pass  to  the  offering  of  first 
fruits.  We  have  seen  that  great  importance  attached 
to  the  beginnings  of  things ;  the  first  word  spoken, 
the  first  thing  seen  or  heard.  Hence  it  becomes 
advisable  to  inaugurate  each  important  season  of  the 
year,  and  each  time  of  life,  by  auspicious  words  and 
acts.  Just  as  the  new  year  and  the  birthday  must 
begin  with  good  omens,  so  is  it  with  the  harvest  both 
of  corn  and  of  wine.  The  solemn  festival  of  the 
Brethren  of  the  Field  was  especially  one  of  first-fruits. 
The  citizen  did  not  even  taste  of  the  new  corn  and 
wine  until  the  priests  had  eaten  and  drunk  of  them. 
Numa,  it  was  said,  ordained  that  the  corn  should  be 
baked  ;  and  forbade  the  employment  of  any  other  in 
ritual.  The  reason  given  by  Pliny  states  that  corn  is 
more  wholesome  when  it  is  cooked.  It  is  possible, 
however,  that  we  are  dealing  here  with  traces  of  a 
fire  charm.  When  these  same  acts  are  looked  at  by 
devotees  of  more  imagination,  they  are  interpreted 

1  Rel.  Sent.  236.     Nehem,  viii.  12. 


THE  SACRED   DRAMA  297 

by  reference  to  the  will  of  the  harvest  spirit.  The 
magical  beginning  of  the  harvest  appears  then  to  be 
an  offering  of  first  fruits  to  a  deity.1 

11  In  some  places,"  says  Varro,  "  the  beginning  of 
the  vintage  is  made  publicly  by  the  priests ;  and  this 
is  the  case  at  Rome.  For  the  Flamen  Dialis  com- 
mences the  vintage.  When  the  time  comes  to  pluck 
the  grapes,  he  sacrifices  a  lamb  to  Jupiter,  and  begins 
between  the  killing  of  the  lamb,  and  the  offering  of 
its  flesh."  In  like  manner  the  ritual  law  of  Tusculum 
forbade  the  sale  of  wine,  until  the  priest  had  pro- 
claimed the  festival  of  opening  the  casks.2 

It  seems  reasonable  to  suppose  that  the  festival  of 
first-fruits  reaches  back  into  those  primitive  times 
when  there  was,  as  yet,  no  settled  pantheon.  The 
labourer  in  an  English  harvest  field  who  pours  on 
the  ground  the  first  drops  of  his  ale,  in  order  (he 
explains)  that  it  may  run  clear,  is  repeating  an  act 
familiar  to  the  Romans.  Yet  it  is  possible  that  the 
long  list  of  his  predecessors  may  never  have  gone 
beyond  the  belief  in  the  simple  efficacy  of  the  rite. 
They  may  never  have  thought  that  the  libation 
pleased  any  spirit — whether  of  the  field  or  of  the 
corn.  We  must  look  elsewhere  for  the  origin  of  this 
belief.  The  idea  that  the  spirits  need  food  is  very 
manifest  in  the  offerings  which  the  Romans  made  to 
their  dead  ;  and  this  belief  had  some  effect,  doubtless, 

1  Pliny,  N.  H.  xviii.  2. 

2  Varro,  L,  Z.  vi.  16.     Mommsen,  R.  H.  i.  196. 


298       THE  WORSHIP  OF  THE  ROMANS 

upon  their  interpretation  of  other  traditional  usages. 
In  India,  the  gods  are  supposed  to  need  their  food. 
By  sacrifice,  says  the  Vishnu  Purana,  the  gods  are 
nourished.  In  the  offering  of  first-fruits,  therefore, 
we  have  an  act  performed  first  for  its  magical 
efficacy,  and  subsequently  regarded  as  part  of  the 
service  of  a  spirit.1 

Just  as  the  gods  of  Rome  joined  in  the  sacred 
games,  so  they  were  thought  to  be  present  at  the 
sacred  banquet.  The  quaint  simplicity  of  Roman 
ideas  about  religion  is  nowhere  more  striking  than 
here.  The  sacred  banquets  were  held  originally  in 
thanksgiving,  and,  by  an  innovation,  as  an  expedient 
to  avert  pestilence.  Couches  were  set  in  the  open 
spaces.  These  were  spread  with  the  most  costly 
coverlets  and  cushions,  and  the  images  of  the  gods 
were  placed  upon  them.  Tables  were  brought,  and 
a  sumptuous  meal  was  laid  out.  When  the  banquet 
had  been  eaten  symbolically  by  the  gods,  it  was 
handed  over  to  the  College  of  the  Feasters,  septem- 
viri  epulones.  On  two  occasions  during  Caesar's 
campaigns  in  Gaul,  the  Senate  commanded  that 
thanksgivings  should  be  held  for  three  weeks. 
Throughout  this  time  every  house  in  the  city  was 
thrown  open,  and  all  were  welcomed  to  the  citizens' 
tables.  Private  enmities  were  suspended.  The  law 
courts  were  closed.   Prisoners  were  set  free  from  their 

1  M.  Williams,  Hinduism,  39. 

2  Caesar,  B.  G.  iv.  38 ;  vii.  90. 


THE  SACRED   DRAMA  299 

We  have  thus  traced  the  development  of  Roman 
sacrifice,  from  its  magical  form  to  that  stage  in  which 
it  is  viewed  as  a  communion  with  the  god.  The 
most  powerful  factor  in  this  process  seems  to  have 
been  the  employment  of  images.  They  secured  the 
presence  of  the  god,  in  the  same  way  as  the  images 
made  by  the  witches  secured  the  presence  of  their 
victims.  The  image  is  a  magical  object,  and  brings 
the  god  to  the  assembly  of  his  worshippers.  In  the 
absence  of  the  god,  his  benefits  could  not  be  counted 
upon.  Only  at  a  later  stage  of  religious  thought  is 
the  divine  will  regarded  as  adequate  in  itself  to  operate 
apart  from  these  physical  means.  In  particular,  the 
look  of  the  god  was  believed  to  protect.  As  the 
worshippers  filled  the  temple,  they  were  all  under 
the  guardianship  of  the  solemn  figure  whose  coun- 
tenance was  turned  upon  them,  "  raining  influence." 
When  some  Indians  set  out  on  an  expedition  across 
Lake  Superior,  the  chief,  in  a  very  loud  voice, 
addressed  a  prayer  to  the  Great  Spirit,  entreating 
him  to  give  them  a  good  look  to  cross  the  lake.1 

At  one  of  the  sacred  banquets  there  was  a  dreadful 
omen.  The  images  of  the  gods  turned  their  faces 
from  the  feast  that  was  laid  before  them.  This  is 
explained  when  Livy  tells  us,  that  the  mice  got  to 
the  olives  before  the  dinner  began,  and  that  the  dish 
which  was  set  before  Jove  fell  off  the  table,  covers 
and  all.      When  the  gods  are  thus   averse,  that  is 

1  Tylor,  P.  C.  ii.  366. 


300       THE  WORSHIP  OF  THE  ROMANS 

when  they  have  turned  away  their  faces,  special 
means  must  be  taken  to  regain  their  favour.  In 
this  particular  case  the  Roman  games  were  re- 
peated.1 

Just  as  the  god's  presence  was  secured  by  deter- 
minate rites,  so,  if  he  seemed  to  delay  his  coming, 
the  same  rites  were  used  with  more  earnestness, 
or  older  ones  were  revived.  As  the  meaning  of  ritual 
was  lost,  its  use  tended  to  be  interrupted.  Only 
when  the  presence  of  some  calamity  roused  the 
dormant  religious  sense  was  the  ancient  ceremonial 
practised,  with  the  old  seriousness,  though  with  an 
imperfect  consciousness  of  its  original  meaning. 
Thus  the  human  sacrifices  which,  in  all  probability, 
formed  once  a  considerable  part  of  the  sacrificial 
ritual  of  Rome,  were  revived  on  rare  occasions,  as 
when  the  two  Greeks  and  the  two  Gauls  were  buried 
alive.  So,  too,  the  old  meaning  of  lustration  being 
lost,  the  water  and  the  fire  are  used  not  as  a  regular 
means  of  securing  strength  and  freedom  from  disease, 
but  to  drive  away  some  special  evil  which  has 
alarmed  the  devotee.2 

When  the  advance  of  knowledge  made  it  impos- 
sible to  adhere  any  longer  to  the  literal  interpretations 
of  primitive  uses,  they  were  replaced  by  allegorical 
ones.  The  material  facts  were  treated  as  repre- 
sentative of  moral  conditions.  The  notion  of  physical 
weakness  to  be  done  away  by  the  magical  offices 
1  Liv.  xl.  59.  2  Plut.  R.  Q.  83. 


THE  SACRED   DRAMA  301 

of  religion,  passes  into  the  notion  of  ceremonial  guilt, 
and  thereby  to  the  notion  of  moral  guilt,  when 
religion  is  viewed  in  the  light  of  adoration  paid  to 
moral  beings.  At  this  stage  the  priest  passes  from 
the  primitive  medicine  man  to  the  spiritual  consoler. 
"  Let  him  free  from  fear,"  says  one,  "  the  transgressor 
who  has  expiated  his  fault."  The  water  of  sprinkling 
and  of  baptism  was  thought  to  have  the  power  in 
itself  of  removing  the  stains  of  crime.  The  sense 
of  protection  which  ancient  ritual  thus  gave  was 
reflected  in  a  certain  carelessness  of  temper.  Even 
Ovid  finds  his  countrymen  too  light-hearted  in  this 
respect.  When  Pilate  took  water,  and  washed  his 
hands  from  the  innocent  blood  of  Jesus,  he  showed 
himself  to  be  one  with  those  to  whom  the  poet 
addressed  his  rebuke  a  generation  before :  "  Ah,  too 
light  of  heart  are  ye  who  think  that  the  stern  accus- 
ations of  murder  can  be  done  away  in  the  water 
of  a  river."1 

Not  only  were  spiritual  meanings  read  into  ancient 
ritual  by  more  enlightened  ages.  The  more  savage 
elements  in  it  were  discarded.  In  Ovid's  time  it 
began  to  be  believed  that  the  earliest  sacrifices  were 
bloodless.  The  new  Pythagoreans,  in  particular, 
attacked  the  customs  of  animal  sacrifice.  In  India, 
animals  are  now  sacrificed  only  to  Kali. 

In  the  same  spirit,  later  theologians  explained  the 
sacrifice    of   animals    by    reference    to    substitution. 

1  Ovid,  Fasti,  ii.  45. 


302       THE  WORSHIP  OF  THE  ROMANS 

The  notion  of  a  life  kindred  with  that  of  mankind 
accounts  for  the  interchange  of  human  and  animal 
sacrifices.  Yet  it  is  not  necessary  to  assume  that 
at  first  sacrifice  was  performed  always  with  human 
victims.  The  flesh  of  the  kindred  boar,  or  horse, 
or  ox,  was  as  effective  a  talisman  as  that  of  the 
human  being.  The  belief  that  the  life  of  the  man 
or  animal  was  bound  up  with  certain  parts  of  the 
body,  was  another  factor  by  which  ancient  usages 
must  have  been  affected.  The  time  when  the  priests 
of  Jove  and  Vesta  ceased  to  be  sacrificed,  may  date 
from  the  burial  of  their  hair  under  the  sacred  trees. 
The  story  of  the  charm  against  thunder,  therefore, 
may  have  a  basis  in  fact  The  man's  hair  may  have 
been  given  for  his  life. 

Roman  worship  culminated  in  the  ceremonial  of 
sacrifice  ;  in  it  all  the  ideas  we  have  been  considering 
found  expression.  Let  us  suppose  ourselves  trans- 
ported across  the  centuries  into  an  Italian  town  of 
Ovid's  time,  and  to  wake  on  the  morning  of  a  holy 
day.1  The  day  of  sacrifice  must  be  of  good  omen. 
If  it  prove  inauspicious,  the  sacred  duty,  unless 
appointed  specially  for  the  occasion,  will  be  put  off. 
The  first  favourable  moment  must  be  seized.  In 
order  that  no  evil  influence  may  be  aroused  by  an 
idle  expression,  those  who  are  to  take  part  in  the 
ceremony  choose  carefully  words  of  good  omen,  or 

1  Note.    The  description  that  follows  has  been  combined  from  many 
sources,  and  is  not  representative  of  any  single  ceremonial. 


THE  SACRED   DRAMA  303 

even  keep  a  religious  silence.  Ovid,  by  a  later 
refinement,  enjoins  on  the  worshipper  to  cultivate 
a  good  intention.  Serenity  and  joyousness  of  coun- 
tence  and  bearing  were  a  duty.  There  was  neither 
mourner  nor  sign  of  mourner  to  be  seen.  Every 
word  of  lamentation  was  left  unspoken.  The  mourner 
was  thought  to  be  polluted  by  the  death  of  his 
kinsman,  and  was  excluded  from  the  public  cere- 
monies. So,  too,  at  Jerusalem,  "the  Levites  stilled 
all  the  people,  saying,  Hold  your  peace,  for  the 
day  is  holy,  neither  be  ye  grieved."  The  same 
festal  mood  was  cultivated  by  the  citizens  in  their 
dwellings.  "What  am  I  to  do  on  the  holy  day 
of  Neptune?"  Horace  asks,  and  then  he  bids  the 
singing-girl  bring  out  the  old  Caecuban  wine,  that 
they  may  drink  together,  and  chant  the  praises  of 
Neptune  and  Diana.  The  costume  of  the  citizens 
bore  witness  to  the  sacred  season.  The  toga  was 
sent  to  the  fuller,  that  it  might  be  made  white  for 
the  holiday.  The  concourse  of  the  worshippers  thus 
attired  dazzled  the  eye  under  the  bright  Italian  sun, 
and  seemed  to  melt  into  the  white  stucco  or  marble 
of  the  streets  and  public  edifices.  Moreover,  work 
was  abstained  from,  lest  any  casual  act  should  render 
fruitless  the  ceremonies  of  the  day.  The  king  of 
worship  and  the  flamens  were  not  allowed  to  see 
work  done  at  sacred  seasons,  and  announced  this 
by  the  crier.  It  was  only  permitted  to  the  citizens 
to  do  that  of  which  the  omission  would  cause  harm. 


3o4       THE  WORSHIP   OF  THE   ROMANS 

"  The  sanctity  of  the  day,"  Scaevola  said,  in  the  spirit 
of  the  Jewish  doctors,  "was  not  broken  if  a  man 
dragged  an  ox  out  of  a  pit."  The  Roman  holy  days, 
therefore,  were  kept  as  strictly  as  Sunday  in  Protes- 
tant countries.  There  was  a  distinction  drawn  in  this 
respect.  The  times  when  the  mundus  was  open,  the 
Saturnalia,  and  the  Latin  Festival  were  kept  most 
strictly.  The  private  feast  of  purification  after  a 
death,  feriae  denicales,  was  also  one  of  great  solemnity. 
Other  occasions,  public  or  private,  were  observed 
with  more  freedom.  In  the  country,  seven  days  were 
given  to  work,  and  on  the  eighth  the  countryman 
came  to  town,  to  attend  the  market,  and  to  perform 
his  religious  duties.  In  the  interest  of  the  farmer 
it  was  decided  that  the  law  courts  could  be  open 
on  the  market  day.1 

The  lot  of  the  slave  and  the  artisan  was  lightened 
considerably  by  the  numerous  holidays.  The  man 
of  higher  station  welcomed  his  freedom  from  public 
business.  It  was  in  moments  snatched  thus  from 
politics  that  Cicero  pursued  his  literary  and  philo- 
sophical studies.  The  number  of  holidays,  however, 
became  so  great  as  to  be  a  public  inconvenience. 
Augustus  diminished  them  by  thirty.  Two  centuries 
later  Marcus  Aurelius  fixed  one  hundred  and  thirty- 
five  days  as  the  limit.2 

1  Liv.  i.  45.     Ovid,  Fasti,  i.  71.     Nehemiah,  viii.  11.     Hor.  Carm. 
iii.  28.     Plut.  Nitmay  14.     Macr.  Sat.  i.  16.     Dio  Cass.  fr.  25. 

2  Suet.  Aug  32. 


THE  SACRED   DRAMA  305 

At  the  early  morning  hour  appointed  for  the 
sacrifice,  the  precincts  of  the  temples  are  crowded 
with  worshippers.  Chaplets  are  set  upon  the  heads 
of  the  gods,  and  their  images  are  anointed.  The 
altars  which  stand  before  them  in  the  temples  are 
wreathed  with  vervain,  that  is,  with  the  green  leaves 
of  sacred  trees,  such  as  laurel,  olive,  and  myrtle. 
Saffron  and  laurel  are  burnt  with  the  incense,  in 
order  that  the  crackling  of  the  flames  may  furnish 
a  good  omen.  The  shimmer  of  the  altar  fires  is 
reflected  from  the  many  polished  surfaces  of  marble 
and  of  metal,  and  especially  from  the  gilt  compart- 
ments of  the  ceilings.  The  shining  pavements 
within,  and  the  paths  without,  are  strewn  with 
"  violets,"  that  is,  with  wallflowers  and  stocks.1 

The  slaughter  of  the  sacred  victims  is  to  take 
place  at  the  great  altar  outside  the  temple,  perhaps  a 
round  structure  like  that  which  stood  upon  a  founda- 
tion of  several  steps  at  the  north-east  corner  of  the 
temple  of  Diana  at  Nemi.  The  white  bulls,  with 
their  horns  gilt,  and  the  white  sheep,  brought  for 
sacrifice  from  the  famous  pastures  of  Clitumnus,  are 
scared  and  restive  under  the  glances  of  the  throng. 
And  now  the  chosen  victims  are  led  away,  in  order 
that  the  sacred  procession  may  be  formed.  The 
magistrate  who  is  to  conduct  the  sacrifice  has 
washed  his  hands  in   water  from  a  living  stream. 

1  Macr.  Sat.  iii.  13,  8.  Ovid,  Fastit  i.  76,  344.  Mayor's  n.  Juv. 
xii.  90. 

U 


3o6       THE  WORSHIP   OF  THE  ROMANS 

He  has  girt  up  his  toga  in  the  ancient  manner  of 
Gabii,  taking  one  of  the  loose  ends  and  twisting  it 
round  his  waist.  He  is  also  veiled  in  part  by  raising 
over  the  back  of  the  head  that  fold  of  the  toga 
which  passes  round  the  shoulders.  The  attendants 
who  follow  are  also  wreathed  with  chaplets  of  leaves 
and  flowers,  or  fillets  of  sacred  wool.  The  fire  on 
the  altar  has  been  brought  in  a  brazier  from  some 
pure  source,  perhaps  from  the  sacred  hearth  of  Vesta 
herself.  Religious  silence  is  proclaimed  to  all  the 
bystanders,  and  they  are  sprinkled  with  holy  water 
by  means  of  an  aspergill,  perhaps  a  horse's  tail. 
The  flute-player  shrills  forth  a  strain  from  his  pipes 
of  ivory.  As  the  magistrate  comes  near  the  altar, 
one  reads  to  him  the  set  form  of  words  from  an 
ancient  book  of  ritual,  and  he,  turning  to  the  east, 
repeats  them  carefully,  lest  a  word  misplaced  or 
misspoken  should  render  the  rite  fruitless.  He  then 
takes  incense  from  the  casket  offered  to  him,  and 
new  wine,  unmixed  with  water,  from  a  flat  golden 
bowl  which  is  handed  to  him  by  the  camillus,  a  boy 
of  noble  descent,  whose  father  and  mother  are  still 
living.  The  incense  is  scattered,  and  the  wine 
poured  over  the  flames.  Then  a  victim  is  led  up. 
Its  head  is  sprinkled  with  meal  and  salt,  and  a  few 
hairs  are  cut  off  and  thrown  into  the  fire.  It  was 
of  great  importance  that  it  should  seem  to  come 
willingly,  and  a  few  grains  of  corn  or  drops  of  water 
were  let  fall  into  its  ears,  that  it  might  shake  its  head, 


THE  SACRED   DRAMA  307 

and  seem  to  nod  assent  to  the  sacrifice.  Two  men 
slay  the  animal ;  one  of  them  stuns  it  with  a  maul, 
while  the  other  brings  the  sacred  knife,  which  has 
been  sprinkled  with  salt  and  grain.  The  latter  asks 
the  magistrate  for  his  order  to  kill,  and  he  replies, 
THIS  DO,  hoc  age.  The  permission  being  given,  he 
cuts  its  throat.  A  basin  is  held  under  the  wound, 
and  the  blood  which  flows  is  handed  to  the  celebrant, 
who  pours  it  upon  the  altar.  He  wipes  his  hands 
upon  a  cloth  of  rough  texture,  the  use  of  which  is 
kept  up  in  the  ornamental  band  or  scarf  which 
priests  of  the  Roman  Church  wear  upon  the  left 
arm.  The  animal  is  now  prepared  for  food.  The 
skull  is  either  burnt  upon  the  altar,  or  hung  upon  the 
temple  wall,  in  order  to  be  a  token  of  the  sacrifice. 
Of  its  entrails,  the  heart,  the  lungs,  and  the  liver 
were  set  aside  upon  a  charger,  to  be  committed  later 
to  the  flames.  When  the  victims  were  killed  in 
order  to  ascertain  the  will  of  the  gods,  the  entrails 
were  examined  carefully,  and  if  they  were  favour- 
able, the  rite  had  been  successfully  accomplished. 
In  the  year  208  B.C.  victims  were  offered  for  some 
days  without  success,  sine  litatione,  and  the  peace  of 
the  gods  was  not  gained.  There  was  an  interval 
between  the  sacrifice  and  the  offering  of  the  entrails. 
This  might  be  brief,  or  else  it  lasted  from  the  morning 
until  the  evening.  The  sacred  silence  was  suspended 
in  the  meantime,  and  was  renewed  when  the  entrails 
were  burnt.1      1  Liv>  xxvii>  23     Wilm§  2879# 


3o8        THE   WORSHIP   OF   THE   ROMANS 

With  the  shedding  of  the  blood  upon  the  altar  the 
religious  part  of  the  ceremonial  culminated.  The 
rest  of  the  feast,  though  indeed  sacred,  was  pa      ;. 

in  the  feeling  that  all  was  well  between  man  and 
heaven.  The  flesh  was  roasted  Upon  spits  of  hazel 
or  willow.  Bread  was  brought  Upon  trays,  and  wine- 
was  served.  During  the  banquet  hymns  were  raised 
to  the  god  of  the  feast,  by  men  who  moved  in  solemn 
measure  round  the  altars.  This  part  of  the  ceremony 
took  its  rise  in  the  shouts  by  which  the  worshipper 
Summoned  the  god  to  the  feast,  and  was  the  fore- 
runner of  the  prayers  and  hymns,  which  have  come 
to  be  the  chief  part  of  modern  worship.  Horace 
was  one  of  the  first,  among  the  Romans,  to 
poetic  expression  to  these  utterances.  His  most 
famous  sacred  poem  was  the  Secular  Hymn,  which 
he  wrote  at  the  command  uf  Augustus,  to  be  BUttg 
by  a  choir  of  boys  and  girls  at  the  games  of  the 
year  17  B.C.  His  lyrics  were  learnt  by  the  children 
of  succeeding  generations,  and  must  have  been  often 
on  their  lips  to  while  away  the  moments  as  they 
walked  along  the  country  lanes  ;  set  perhaps  to 
plain  and  strenuous  music  like  that  of  the  Delphic 
hymn. 


LATIN    INDEX 


ahil.v 

74- 

.'■ 
auguraculum,  l 

Ilacch  . 

cum sme,  I—- 
casa  Komuli,  237. 
Camillas,  306. 
C«>milia  cala'a,  26$. 
cnnf.uro.i'io,  264. 

48. 
curator  a<juarum,  1S1. 

dies  viol  .  63. 

dii  manes,  59,  64. 
Domiduca,  1 34- 

Educa,  134- 

eptdoattt  298. 

•*c,  235. 
1  ...    nius,  109. 


• 

: 
: 

,, 

.. 

fordid 

hirpi,  1 12. 

indiyitamenta,  104,  134,  1 57- 
Intcrcid'ma,  103,  134- 
■  5°- 

5°- 
.win,  68. 

.ianalis — 
(i.)  covering  of  rntoi  for,  61. 
(ii.)  rain  charm,  155,  1 57- 
lares,  243. 
lemuria,  67. 
307- 
liluus,  iSS. 

Lupcrcalia,  108,  144,  163. 
lymphatus,  125. 


3io 


LATIN   INDEX 


mathematici,  197. 
Mellonia,  134. 
mos  maiorum,  66,  138. 
mundus,  304. 

orbis,  74. 
oscines,  184. 

parcipromus,  57. 
parentare,  69. 
Parilia,  58. 
pax  deum,  76. 
persona,  16. 
Pilumnus,  103,  134. 
pomoerium,  188,  194. 
pons  sublicius,  164. 
postliminium,  213. 
Potina,  134. 
praenomina,  249. 
praepetes,  184. 
praesul,  284. 
psychomantia,  40. 


pullarius,  13. 
purus,  14. 

regia,  122. 

regifugium,  253,  266. 
religio,  21,  213. 
rex  sacrorum,  139. 
Robigo,  135. 
Roma  aeterna,  13. 

sacer,  215,  259. 
salii,  101,  284. 
Saturnalia,  57. 
Saturnus,  134. 
silentium,  189. 
silvanus,  102. 
solanus,  113. 
suggrundarium,  60. 

tripudium  solistimum,  189. 

vates,  284. 

ver  sacrumr  293. 


ENGLISH    INDEX 


Aeneid,  folklore  in,  41,  43. 

altar,  227. 

animals,  behaviour  of,  79. 

anointing  with  oil,  145. 

Antony,  109,  194. 

Appius,  friend  of  Cicero,  40. 

Apuleius,  87. 

astrology,  194. 

asylum,  223. 

Athenodorus,  38. 

Attus  Navius,  186. 

augurs,  18411".,  261. 

Augustus,  25,  72,  97,  156,  193. 

Baal,  218,  257. 
beans,  69. 
Bellona,  144. 
blood,  80,  209. 
burial,  earth,  60. 

Caesar,  241,  274,  280. 

Capitoline  temple,  225,  235,  240. 

Carmenta,  123. 

causation,  136. 

Ceres,  260. 

charm  against  thunder,  1 16. 

Cicero,  24, 49, 51,  58,  88, 135, 144. 

Clitumnus,  305. 

comparative  method,  129. 


Consus,  286. 
cornel,  100. 
couvade,  245. 
criminals,  259. 
crow,  116. 
Curtius  Rufus,  33. 

dancing,  283. 
Decii,  256. 
Descartes,  55. 
divination,  174  ff. 
Domitian,  36,  98. 
dreams,  life  of,  28,  interpretation 
of,  48. 

eclipses,  195. 
Egeria,  1 1 5,  121. 
English  law,  19,  25. 
Etruscans,  165. 
Evander,  123. 
evil  eye,  1 5 1. 

father,  authority  of,  245. 
faunus,  106  ff. 
Faustulus,  115. 
fire,  206  ff. 
Firmanus,  196. 
first  fruits,  296. 
flint,  164, 


312 


ENGLISH   INDEX 


Fortuna  Primigenia,  182. 
foundations,  243. 
funeral,  65,  204. 
Furies,  34. 

gables,  241. 
gallows,  256. 
games,  287. 

Gods,  punctilious,  47 ;  genii  of,  58. 
government,  Roman,  as  religious 
censor,  83,  139,  140. 

head,  as  seat  of  life,  53. 
heart,  in  divination,  192. 
Hercules,  126. 
Hirpini,  293. 
holiness,  idea  of,  2X1. 
Horace,  24,  197,  303. 
—  his  conversion,  88. 

images,  105,  230,  299. 
Indian  administration,  20. 
insanity,  159,  161. 
inspiration,  252. 

Juno,  221,  225. 
Jupiter,  121,  221,  225. 

Khonds,  257. 

king  of  the  wood,  255. 

king  of  worship,  139,  253,  303. 

kneeling,  279. 

Lang,  28. 

language,  effect  of,  18;  origin  of,  21. 

laurel,  98,  10 1. 

law,  Roman,  19;  school  of  evidence, 

21. 
lightning,  77,  156,  193. 
liver,  in  divination,  192. 
Livy,  on  marvels,  84. 


lots,  i8off. 
Lucan,  16. 
Lucretius,  24,  75. 
lung,  in  divination,  192. 

Maecenas,  73. 
magic,  154,  161  ff. 
mancipation,  148. 
Marcius,  175. 
Marcus,  140,  249. 
Marica,  123. 
Mars,  driven  out,  267. 
Marsi,  161. 
medicine,  130,  158. 
metamorphosis,  152. 
miracles  of  Vespasian,  91. 
monotheism,  91. 
music,  283. 
mysteries,  167  ff. 

Nemi,  temple  at,  97  ;  scenery  of, 
1 19;  altar  at,  230,  305;  favissa 
at»  235  J  votive  offerings  a  , 
120,  281. 

Nero,  36,  98. 

Numa,  115,  121,  270. 

numbers,  150. 

October  Horse,  284,  290. 

Odin,  255. 

oleaster,  97. 

Olenus,  149. 

omens,  operation  of,  150. 

Otho,  36. 

outlaw,  203. 

Ovid,  24,  35,  122. 

ox  of  Samnium,  293. 

pathetic  fallacy,  92. 
prayer,  276. 
pestilence,  132. 


ENGLISH   INDEX 


3*3 


Picentes,  293. 

Picus,  115. 

Pilate,  301. 

places,  holy,  222. 

Pliny,  the  Elder,  33,  154. 

the  Younger,  32. 
polytheism,  105. 
pontiffs,  83,  273. 
primitive  wisdom,  130. 
progress,  nature  of,  22. 
Publicius,  175. 

Pythagorean,  books,  179;  theories 
concerning  sacrifice,  301. 

rain  charms,  155. 

religion,  Lucretiusand  Virgil  on,75. 

Remus,  188,  243. 

ritual,  joyous  character  of,  270, 

and  belief,  273. 
Romulus,  100,  115,  188,  196. 
round  temples,  239. 

sacrifice,  power  of,  291,  surround. 

ings  of,  302  ff. 
Salvanel,  106. 
Satumian  measure,  107. 
Scaevola,  274. 
Seneca,  16. 
serpents,  as  pets,  56. 
sextons,  241. 
Sibyl,  176  flf. 


sleep,  gates  of,  44. 

social  self,  15. 

soul,  primitive  idea  of,  55. 

spinning,  147. 

spiritualism,  in  Nottingham,  40, 
207 ;  affinities  of,  with  primi- 
tive religion,  130. 

spoils,  146. 

standards,  military,  231. 

Stoics,  49. 

substitution,  302. 

Suetonius,  32. 

Summanus,  194. 

taboos,    power    of,     202 ;    more 

numerous  in  early  times,  ib. 
Tacitus,  89,  197. 
Tennyson,  42. 

Terminus,  118,  162,  221,  227. 
Thrasyllus,  198. 
Tiberinus,  125. 
Tiberius,  66,  156. 
Tibullus,  24. 
Trajan,  16. 
Trebatius,  294. 

trees,  of  life,  43, 99 ;  wonderful,  79. 
Twelve  Tables,  164. 

urn  of  destiny,  183. 

Yggdrasil,  255. 


PLYMOUTH  : 

WILLIAM   BRENDON  AND  SON, 

PRINTERS. 


Date  Due 

-P*^                - 

K^l 

'" 

f) 

